Heroes and Halfwits
by Klyde Barrow
Summary: Being an budding adventurer can be rough. Just trying to get by in a world of viscous monsters, politics, and the ever present threat of being evicted is a hassle. Thankfully with a friend watching your back you might be able to get by. Get ready for an O.C. story with lots of badass adventurers, hordes of treasure, and did I mention the humor? Cuz there will be lots of that.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: With interest

The warm summer rays shined down onto the city of Hayak. A quaint city whose streets were busy with commerce: Merchants called for customers to observe and sample their wears, a carpenter's saw could be heard down the laneway ripping freshly hewn logs, the warm and soothing smell of freshly baked breads, and the giggle of children running by playing their youthful games.

This serenity couldn't help but make a soft smile crack from underneath a mage's hood. The hooded figure looked on at the sights and sounds around her. She sat atop a stack of wooden crates and leaned her back against the wall to a red brickwork clock tower. The sunbaked wall sent a warmth through her body, aiding in the soothing environment around her. Above her the clock tower sprang to life and the massive bell clang twice before the cityscape returned its usual lull of hardworking citizens.

The mage ran her slender fingers along the silver runic trim of her faded yellow cloak. She tilted her head up to the sky and let out a long annoyed sigh.

"What in the hells am I doing with my life?" she said before hunching over and staring at her the blemishes on here well-worn boots. "I'm a cleric. I should be off on some battlefield saving the lives of injured soldiers and healing brave warriors who can do some _real, _good to help this world. Not be stuck here-"

The mage's concentration was broken by harsh squeak of a wrought iron gate being flung open and a man being dragged by his arms by three guards. Once away from the gateway, they tossed the man into the dirt. The pungent odor of cheap ale permeated from the criminal.

"With…_him_." She said hopping off her seat and approaching the guards. The cleric tugged at her cowl and made sure it was well secure on her head before reaching for a leather purse on her belt. She proffered the guard leader a small handful of silver coins to pay for the drunkard's bail from the city prison.

The two had a jagged friendship. The two were polar opposites. One a mage of high standards, and the other a reprobate. But, the two had common goals and proved to be reliable allies. She raised her head high enough for the guards to clearly see her face and know she was here for him.

"Make sure this never happens again." Warned the guard taking the coins and returning to his comrades. Before they made their way back inside the prison, the guard leader gave the drunkard a swift kick in the rear. "And let that be a reminder!"

Once they iron gate clanked shut, the man rolled onto his back and squinted at the illuminated sky above him. He let out a pain-filled groan as he gingerly held his head. "I don't know what hurts worse. My head? My stomach? Or my ass?" The man shut his eyes tight for a second, slowly opened them, and found a finely crafted copper pendant with a green cabochon hanging over head. Its owner glared down in disgust at the man.

"Considering I had to pay off your jail bond with ALL of our money, I would say that your bruised ass is the least of our worries."

"Some friend you are, Hastur." The man scoffed crawling to his knees. He then staggered to find his balance, still not fully recovered from last night's bacchanalian exploits that lead to his arrest.

"You better have gotten the information." Sighed the mage helping her companion to his feet. The smell coming from him was as foul as a dozen pig pens. The mage stood a great fewer inches shorter than her companion and just shy a year younger.

"Yup. My contact in the dungeon cells told me that our target has a hiding spot here in the Cloud district."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to just speak with you contact like any other person visiting a felon?"

"I wouldn't have been able to do that without raising suspicion, and besides, this was way more fun." He said with a slight grin while dusting off his leather doublet.

"Not when you spent all of my money. Which you had better repay me every sent, plus compensation." Demanded the mage, fuming in agitation.

"Compensation? For what?"

"Shall I begin with the most recent reasons, or the most notable?"

"Yeah, yeah." Shrugged the man "Fine I'll pay you back."

"Lead the way. The sooner we get paid, the sooner we can eat."

"I'm going to need to get my gear first." He said wiggling his spine into place, making it pop and crack "As fun as it would be to go fight some dudes with my bare hands, I'm gonna need my swords." The man was gruff, not just in speech but in appearance as well. He had a short crop of dark brown hair. He had a constant shadow of beard hair on his face that matched his demeanor. By occupation he was a ranger. But he was almost always seen in civilized areas. Whether stalking the streets of a metropolis or patrolling the numerous hamlets that speckled the countryside.

The two made their way to a small boarding house that sat between the Forge District and the Cloud District. Between the two districts were rows of boarding houses that housed the laborers of each district. The Forge was aptly named for the many smith shops that hammered away crafting the many smithing needs of the city. The smoke plumed from all the shops and made a slight haze over the entire city. The Cloud District was named that for the fact it was the highest part of the city. Many traders would set up a stall there and sell their wares. While intellectuals from the monastery, college, and book dealers would come around and exchange knowledge.

Their boarding complex was a large brick building like many others in the city, it stood two stories tall and featured many fireplaces that resembled spikes coming up from the roof. But unfortunate for the duo, their particular room sat on the second level. The two crept their way inside and walked soft footed up the stairwell to their room. The only sounds made were the slight click of their key turning the lock's tumblers and a nearby door creaking eerily open.

"Mr. Fridulf! Mrs. Prynn!" came a sharp pitched voice that beckoned them to come near back down the stairwell.

The man and woman lowered their head in regret that they were caught. The man swore under his breath in a mix of every language he knew.

"Madam Glassgate, how are you doing on this fine afternoon? You are looking as lovely as ever." the man said with a forced smile at the small shrew of a Halfling standing before them. Her flaxen hair, with streaks of silver mixed in, guessed her age somewhere at about her early 200s, a common feat for her people. Standing on the shorter side of three feet tall, the landlady of their boarding house was a stern woman who ran her bunkhouse with an iron fist.

"Don't try to sweet talk me, you damn drunk! I can smell the booze on your breath. And you, Mrs. Prynn, I would have expected a respectful mage like yourself would not be cavorting with the likes of him. And what's more, you two are late on your rent, again!" the Halfling roared tapping her foot in anger "This is the third time in a row. If you don't gimmie my money this instant your arses will hit the street.

The man scrunched his face in anger at the shrew, but before he could cast a mouthful of insults, his partner stepped forward to try and defuse the situation. "Madam Glassgate. It is true that we are behind quite a bit in our payments, and truly you have the right to be furious at Thaelin and myself." Hastur said with a kind and gentle notion

"You aren't helping." Whispered the man. His taunt was met with a swift elbow to the sides as the mage began to continue her plea.

"BUT, we are currently on a job at this very moment. And I swear to you, by Ohgma, that we shall pay you in full and for the next few months." She declared, placing a hand over the symbol of an unwritten scroll being unfurled embroidered on her satchel.

"What?!" gasped the man who was again jabbed harshly in the ribs.

"Just swear it!" the mage whispered, cocking her arm back for another strike

"Fine, I swear." He grumbled as he reached for a gold coin medallion around his neck

Seeing the feeble attempt at begging for a second chance, the Halfling let out a chuckle. "Aye, you two sure are a sorry sight. Very well. You have until nightfall, but if your late, your arses will be meeting that door!" she proclaimed pointing to the door behind her with a clenched fist and an extended thumb.

"Thank you Madam." The mage said with a warm grin and a modest bow. The mage's necklace wiggled free and exposed itself from being tucked underneath the cloak clasp. The two returned to their door, but the mage was called back by the shrew's voice.

"Mrs. Prynn! Is that an Elven necklace I see around your neck?!"

The mage's heart sank at the mention of the jewelry. "Yes?" she admitted with trepidation "I saw this in the market a few days ago and I admired the beauty of the stone, I had no idea it was Elven, Madam Glassgate"

"Get rid of it! You know how I feel about those pointy eared bastards! Those pompous fools always feel like they are superior all to others. Their pride and their arrogance are equal to that gobshite of a friend of yours. It will be the doom of them all!" Madam Glassgate growled, her face becoming flustered.

"Yes ma'am." The mage said with a bow as she reached into her hood and removed the necklace carefully not to disturb the cowl from her head.

Satisfied with the removal of the offensive jewelry, the landlady gave a snide look as the two entering their room. Once inside, Hastur bolted the door shut, rested her forehead against its old wood planks and let out a long dramatic sigh. "I fucking hate that bitch so much!"

"You're telling me!" Answered her roommate who had collapsed face first onto his straw mattress bed. His voice partially muffled "I thought that hate wasn't something you were supposed to stay attached to?"

"I'm a Cleric, but I'm still a person. I'm inclined to show hatred, especially toward fat nosed wenches like Madam Glassgate." Hastur declared removing her cowl to reveal a pair of round, yet tapered ears that marked her partial ancestry. She looked down at the necklace pendant and sighed before returning it around her neck, but this time tucking it under the collar of her shirt.

Their boarding room was a modest sized like many in Hayak. It featured two beds on opposite corners of the room. It was well furnished with a central dining table that was constantly covered with books and documents belonging to either of the roommates and a modest sized fireplace where a majority of their meals where prepared.

On Hastur's side of the room it was neatly kept. On her side of the dining table she kept books on healing methods from far reaches of the world. Close to her bed was a small desk that had a make shift laboratory where she could brew a few small potions. Vials of colorful potions, salves, and unfinished brews dotted the desktop. Next to that stood a wooden changing shade that allowed the only source of privacy to be obtained within the cramped living space. At the foot of her bed sat a wooden chest where she kept all of her personal belongings. Among those was a red leather bound case that had floral vine works and leaves carved into the case. Inside were a collection of the few elven relics she could amass in this city: an ivory handle dagger with a twisted carved pattern, a finely weaved silk shift, and various copper rings.

Whereas on Thaelin's side was a jumbled mess. A few of his shirts and weapons were strewn about on the floor. Tacked against the walls were some trophies from his more memorable bounty missions and excursions out in the wilds. Bear claws, a garland of goblin ears, and a large wooden club belonging to a mountain giant were among his favorites to tell their story behind, but his favorite, was a melted stone he kept on his side of the dining table. It was a grapefruit sized grey stone. The edges had puddled outward like a melting snow pile. On top the stone was smooth where it was kissed by an intense flame and underneath it retained its rough and course texture. It was a souvenir from his first encounter with the most-fierce creatures he had seen, an Elder Red Dragon.

Thaelin rolled over onto his back, trying to get comfortable. The straw mattress was far more comfortable than that of the cold stone floor of the jail cell he slept on the night before. He glanced up at Hastur who was still brooding over the harsh words of their landlady. "Why do you wear that damn hood all the time?"

"I'm a cleric. Many clerics across the land wear a hood as a sign of modesty." She answered turning her attention to the fireplace. After the previous night's escapade, the coals had gone out and both of their stomachs began to rumble.

"And it just so happens to hide the main trait of you being an elf?" He sighed finally finding a comfortable spot where he could rest a bit before going back on the hunt.

"I'm a half elf. I have all the physical appearances of being human, save for my ears. Besides, you know how elves are seen in this city. They are despised and always seen as criminals." Feeling the melancholy beginning to arise in her, Hastur changed the subject to the job at hand.

"So what's this bounty anyway?" she asked looking through the pile of wanted posters all throughout Thaelin's side of the dining table.

"Two hundred gold."

She could hear the man smile at the mention of the prize. Underneath a wooden trencher bowl, she found the poster in question. There was no precise portrait of the individual, just a list of charges and warning to any after their pursuit.

"Wanted for smuggling contraband into the city, assaulting city guards, and theft."

"Yup. Bunch of thugs. Not as great as a bounty towards an assassin or a mage, but its gonna pay our bills." Without catching any sleep the man sat up on the edge of his bed, unbelted his doublet, removed the foul and dirty shirt. He replaced it with another one laying on the floor. Only the newer shirt didn't have as much of a pungent odor.

"Alright. Enough wasting time!" commanded Hastur pulling her hood back up over her head "Its time we go get paid." The mage grabbed an ornate hilted sword with a long needle-like blade that was hanging from a wooden peg next to the door.

"Already ahead of ya." Sighed the bounty hunter belting on a hardened leather cuirass with matching vambraces and shin guards. The man preferred this armor because it gave him the option to be light on his feet. A skill much desired in his line of work. Before leaving their room, he tucked his short swords under his cloak.

Fully resupplied for their task the two exited their boarding house and made their way into the Cloud District. Towards a storehouse close to the city walls. At their destination, the two stood contemplating their next course of action. After a brief discussion and a swift game of rock, paper, scissors; the two agreed to have the bounty hunter go in first and let the mage stay back to prevent any from escaping.

"Okay. Let's get this over with." The bounty hunter said before sauntering into the warehouse when he closed the door behind him he made sure that it latched shut with a clank, to announce his arrival. The only light inside was produced by a few candle stands in strategic corners. Stacks of wooden crates and barrels created a labyrinth for those inside. From the looks of it, these smugglers were sitting on a fortune in illegal goods.

"Hello? Anyone here?" Thaelin asked with arrogance as he paced back and forth waiting for opposition to meet him.

From the back came the thunderous sound of feet rushing to find who the intruder was that found their hideout. The first was a mountain of a man with a bright red beard and a war axe that rested against his shoulder. Behind him was an orc wielding a short sword, and two other men armed with two handed crossbows

"Who the hell are you?" spoke the mountain, brandishing his axe

"Thaelin Fridulf, at your service." The bounty hunter said with a dramatic bow. "I'm here to speak to your boss."

"Is that so?" grumbled the orc

"What do you want with our boss? She's a busy woman you know!" said the red bearded giant of a man

"All I want is to ask her if she would be interested in sucking me off when I'm done killing her bitches." Chuckled the man as he drew out a short sword and a hand crossbow.

The mountain of a man lifted his war axe high into the air and slammed the axe blade down. At the last second Thaelin jumped to the side to parry an incoming sword strike from the orc. With the sword in his right hand and his hand crossbow in the left, he shot a small bolt at one of the archers attempting to line up a shot at him. The small bolt struck the first archer in the chest. The sharp pain made his body retract and before he fell he accidently fire his bolt into the stomach of the second archer. In turn the second archer's crossbow fired. The second bolt struck the mountain of a man in the leg.

Thaelin reloaded his crossbow and began to jump and climb atop the stacks of nearby crates. With a second shot from his hand crossbow, the bolt struck the mountain in the injured leg, but to no avail. The bearded man began to hack and slash at the bounty hunter splintering the crates and barrels. The Orc then started to give chase towards the intruder equally jumping from tops of crates. Once he was within striking distance, the Orc lunged his sword at the human but embedded it into the plug of a cask. When the orc drew back his blade, the contents of the barrel spilled out. The rose colored liquid spewed forth onto the orc who lost his footing and fell down to the ground.

Tempted by the refreshing liquid, Thaelin opened his lips and savored a mouthful of exquisite tasting wine. "Such a shame to waste good wine." He said looking down at the final enemy

The massive opponent let out an enraged growl before picking up smaller barrels and launching them at him. The bounty hunter climbed to the very top of the pile of crates and looked around at his environment to guess a best course of action. The nearest pile of crates was too far for him to jump and there was no way he could out run or maneuver his

"Fuck it!" he yelled jumping off the stack with his blade poised for an impaling strike at the mountain. In return the axe wielder cocked his arm back and readied for a strong swipe at the bounty hunter.

Outside the mage could hear the sounds of an ensuing battle take place. Her mind didn't worry about her partner much. As long as she knew him, she knew that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. She knew the main reason that he brought her along was solely for the fact that he often would get injured on his jobs and needed a healer to rejuvenate him. She was actually contempt with this. It got her a chance to travel, expand her knowledge, and most importantly increase her skills in the mystic arts. The planked door to the warehouse opened up and a familiar face stepped out into the evening light grinning looting bag swollen full and a rope leading back into the warehouse

"Lady Luck is on my side!" laughed Thaelin flicking the coin medallion around his neck

"Tell me you didn't kill the target again." Sighed Hastur

Without a word, the bounty hunter tossed a bound dark skinned elf at her feet, bruised, but still very much alive. The mastermind of the smugglers and thieves was a dark ashen skinned Drow squinting to shield her sensitive eyes from the blinding daylight. She wore her stark white hair into a tight ponytail, violet hued eyes, and a voluminous purple and black robes that were torn from a small fight.

"Looks like this was a good payday!" he laughed picking up the Drow and carrying her over his shoulder. Not long after he left the doorway, a green skinned mass came charging towards the bounty hunter with sword aiming for his throat.

"Look out!" Screamed the mage as she raised her left palm and created a light blue barrier that repelled the incoming strike. When the sword made contact with the magic shield, it made a sharp ping as though it had struck a normal metal shield. In her right hand, Hastur spun her arm to unsheathed her rapier and lunged it through the Orc's chest, making sure to pierce the beast's heart. The orc's body went numb. The longsword fell from its hand with a clang. It fell to its knees kicking up a small poof of dust.

Hastur's green eyes were fixed onto her foe, satisfied with the kill, the mage lunged the thin blade from its mark. A trickle of blood streamed down the Orc's chest and splashed onto the cobblestones bellow. The half elf wiped the thick blood from her sword. She brushed her hair from her eyes and looked back to her partner. Petrified in fear. The bounty hunter's eyes were wide with disbelief.

"Holy shit! I thought that I forgot about one." He said trying to mask his lapse in judgement with a laugh

The mage rolled her eyes "Thank me after we pay Madame Glassgate, and I have my cut. With-"

"Yeah, yeah, with interest."

The rest of their night was spent at their neighborhood tavern, the Weathered Wheel and over a shared pitcher of ale, the two counted out the loot obtained from their bounty mission. The payment was split it into thirds. One for extra share for their rent. Most of the loot pilfered from their foes consisted of gold and silver coins, three cut amethyst gems and a healing potion.

"There… All even." Thaelin said pausing for a swig from his tankard. "We have the 150 gold for rent, plus a gem for next month's pay. Now that heartless Halfling can get off our ass for a while."

Hastur's hand slammed down on the table clapping the bounty hunter's wrist. "Not so fast!" Declared Hastur. "Forgetting something?"

The man furled his brow as he picked up his gem and slid it towards the healer "I didn't forget. There's your precious interest." The mage reached across the table and plucked the red glass vialed potion from small trove the ranger was desperate to horde.

"Oh come on! I need that!" protested Thaelin, slamming his palm onto the table.

"Interest." She said scooping her cut and the vial into her satchel. Bbesides others need that potion more than you do."

"Whatever." growled the man watching the potion be tucked away into her satchel. Sickened by his hard earned treasure be taken from him, the man grabbed his tankard and walking to the bar.

"Where are you going?"

"None of your damn business!" answered the man, flipping-off his companion. The ranger left the healer to access her share in private. He turned his attention to the main bar area where he could get new leads on his next job as a bounty hunter. Thaelin pulled back a stool and took a seat. He waved for the barkeep. The screech of a foot stool sliding across the floor announced the arrival of a young dark haired Halfling his hands greasy from serving a fresh dish of food to a previous customer. The barkeep wiped his small hands on his apron before leaning in to speak with the customer.

"Aye! Thaelin, how have ya been, mate?" asked the stout barkeep, "Care for a refill?"

"Been better." Sighed the man swirling the rest of the ale in the bottom of his tankard "What do ya got for me, Fink?"

"In job wise, there's a bear cave next to this hamlet that could use clearing out not. And then there's a prick that owes me for an unpaid tab."

"Anything else?" Thaelin said gesturing for that offered refill

"I think I heard tale of a troll a few days west of here that-"

"You know what work I'm looking for, Fink ." Interrupted the man with a serious look

The Halfling looked down the bar for any wandering ears. The rest of their conversation was switched to a more-high pitched and fast-paced language.

"_There have been two sightings. In the north, one was spotted next to the Anvils. And by the sea, a fisherman claimed he spotted a small one coming out of a cave next by the Ale Cliffs."_

"Thanks Fink," The man said sliding a gold coin across the counter.


	2. Chapter 2: A Cleric

Chapter 2: A Cleric's life

The rest of the night was a blur to the duo: ale flowed like rivers, songs filled the inn long into the night, but once the candles flickered out and the drink took its effect. The last thing they remembered was a group of Dwarves harassing the cleric. From what Thaelin could translate, they wanted 'the pretty lass to give their leader a kiss for good luck at their card game.' After that moment, their world turned dark.

It was like walking through a thick fog. A sense of uncertainty all around. And like walking through a fog, then came the edge of the fog bank. The destination was a rather painful consciousness. A splitting headache was the first sense to be felt from the numbness of sleep. Somehow it seemed like doing nothing at all would cause the ache to worsen. The second feeling was a hard surface under the mage's head. The cleric blinked her eyes open to a world of confusion. She wasn't sure where she was, but by the scent. Not scent. It was a pungent odor. A mix of fresh cedar sawdust, piss, and cheap beer. By this alone she believed herself to be back at the tavern.

Slowly raising her head from its resting place she found that she had slept at her seat at the tavern. Her vision was fairly hazy. An overwhelming wave of pain washed over her whole body. Her head was obvious. And from where she slept, that explained the back ache. But what she couldn't explain was her bruised hands.

"Ah! Look who's finally awake!" Chuckled a voice that was as sharp on the ears.

"Ugh…wha…What happened?" Hastur said wiping the sense of grogginess from her face. Across from her table was a Halfling dressed in a brown waistcoat. A stained apron hung from his waist and empty tankards filled his hands.

"I didn't get a good look, myself." The Halfling said gesturing to his short stature "But from what I heard, you and your boyfriend had yourselves a hell of a fight."

"Boy-…who are you talking about? I don't have a-" her sentence was cut off when she reached to run her hand through her hair and she realized she wasn't wearing her hood. Panic filled her heart. She tugged at her collar and found that her cloak was not even covering her. Her greatest secret was visable for all onlookers to see.

"Where is my cloak!" she screamed jumping to her feet. Her head swung back and forth looking for the yellow and silver cape and cowl. Though her vision was not entirely clear just yet, she could still easily make out the general shape and color of her yellow cloak.

"Calm yourself lass. I have it. Ya took it off before yer fight. 'Didn't want it to get dirty' ya said." The Halfling man said heading over to the bar where it sat neatly folded.

"T-thanks Fink." The cleric said taking the cloak and pinning it around her neck. "Should I even ask about me and Thaelin's fight was about? I hope I didn't hurt him."

The bartender couldn't hold back a little giggle "Lets just say ya taught those buggers a right lesson."

"What?"

The bartender pointed to the area where she was sitting. The benches and tables were strewn about into a clearing with the bodies of three fat dwarves laid just as passed out as she previously was. By the slight whistle, one was wheezing through a broken nose. It was clear they were still very much alive. Beaten and battered, but still alive. Hastur couldn't help, but cringe at the sight.

"I wont bore ya with the details, but the bald one there will be respecting ya lady-folk properly from now on." Fink said with a broad smile.

"I better get going. Gods know that the priests at the Monastery will have my ass for all this." The cleric said raising her hood.

"Take it easy lass. No men of the cloth would dare come near this corner of The Forge. Oh! And don-fret yerself about the hood. Everyone here was well in the drink by the time of the fight. Yer secrets safe with the world." The Halfling said getting back to work collecting flagons.

A volley of bell clangs rang out through the city. Finally stopping on twelve. The sun sat high in its zenith. Its warmth shined down casting cheerful rays onto the denizens below.

"Great. Its noon. Well, I wont be as bad when I show up at the church." She said to herself. Her stomach let out a deep growl and the void within made itself known "I need some coffee."

About 3 blocks away from the Great Monastery of Hayak was the mage's favorite shop. But at the same time she hated entering the storefront every time. Painted in the common language of the land, in Elven script, then in the Dwarven runes, was a small sign that said 'Humans only' Hastur tugged at her hood. To hide both her ancestry and the scorn for such prejudice. The light blue painted door closed behind her. Upon walking inside, the rich energetic aroma of coffee loomed in the air. That delicious brew of pulverized fragrant roasted beans and boiled water produced a delightful brew that seemed to warm the very soul. The gentle and cozy atmosphere of the café felt like a childhood home. Warm and fragrant. The only sounds inside were customers conversing softly, and the hiss of this marvelous copper boiling apparatus that made a light tasting coffee brew. The perfect setting to crack open her new books.

Before she placed her order for a cup of the delectable, a pair of lesser nobles, dressed in richly designed blue and gold robes entered and cut in line in front of the half-elf. Annoyed by the outburst, Hastur decided to bypass her humility by speaking her mind.

"Hey, the line starts back there" Hastur said making a fist and pointing behind her with her thumb.

The man turned and looked down upon the hooded figure that was protesting their arrogant action "Be gone nave!" he scoffed.

The cleric was becoming annoyed by the remark and their pompous abuse of their status. "Excuse me, but I was next in line!"

The woman, a long faced lady with her hair restrained in a gold laced net behind her ears, began to insult the cleric by reciting how priests like her should have been taught manners and patience. The noble woman made a snide scowl towards the healer. "She must be hard of hearing. You would almost think she is as dense as those stupid Elves." Even the server who was almost finished preparing their drinks, chuckled along. The two continue to taunt the cleric and the Elven people. Hastur was starting to grit her teeth at the insults

The shear mention of her heritage in any negative way was just cause for retaliation to the cleric. She couldn't stand the presence of such racism. Hastur's anger boiled into a moment of mischievous focus. She had just the spell for this very situation. With a whisper, she recited the incantation and began to focus on the brewing station behind the counter. Her finger tips glowed with a dark light and with a flick of her wrist the steam valves to the contraption burst, releasing a loud pop and large plume of scalding steam spewed forth. The server jumped at the miniature explosion causing his grip to let go of the drinks and spill all over the nobles.

Hastur grinned as they panicked and cried at their ruined clothes. On her way out, she snagged a handful of freshly made lemon tarts as she laughed at the noble's sudden case of misfortune.

A handful of the freshly made tarts helped make her day a little better. The sweet aroma of the sweets and that sour tang of the lemon put a smile on her face. The treats would help make up for her lack of caffeine for the morning.

The white stoned cathedral spires seemed to pierce the sky. Tan and red brick of the surrounding plaza buildings housed the many facets of the great monastery. Within the Southern walls, a large infirmary with approximately 200 beds housed the sick and weak where healers such as Hastur would tend to those in need; in the Eastern walls housed those of the Militia. The holy force of paladins and monks that would defend all from the evil forces that plagued the lands. The Northern wall housed the largest library that housed masses of tomes about the history of the known world, explorer's notes, and thesis written about every known religion. And in the Western walls, kept the kitchens, workshops and laboratories that the clergy would use to sustain all those inside.

The Monastery was a collection of many Deity worshippers that mutually agreed to band together to boast peach, help, and comfort in Hayak. The deities praised in the chapels were Kelemvor, Bahamut, Ohgma, Selune, and Tymora

The front gates to the hallowed grounds were always kept open. As a way to welcome all. Any who needed refuge, healing, or spiritual assurance. The half-elf lowered her cowl with a sigh of relief. Here she was free of the prejudices outside these walls for all within these walls was equal. No sign of aggression or hatred was allowed. Hastur melded into the mass of clergy and gone about her day. Her first order of business was to begin her service in the infirmary

A gentle gust of wind blew inwards making the linen sheets to the beds flutter as the injured men and women lay on the straw mattress beds. All the beds were aligned to face the windows as a way to provide the patience with a peaceful view as they recovered.

The old planked door squeaked open at a pitch that both heralded her arrival to those inside, and to aggravate her hangover even worse.

"Have a fun night?" taunted a feminine voice with a soft chuckle

Hastur lowered her hood and squinted towards the source of the greeting. The room being filled bright natural lighting made it difficult to focus. "Ugh…I'm never drinking again." She answered pinching the bridge of her nose.

Hastur's compatriot, a fellow mage, was an anatomist. A peculiar specialist within the walls of the Monastery. She was fully trained in traditional medical sciences and also possessed skills in the magical healing arts. Shae Wren, a

"I take it, you didn't sleep in after a long night of studying?" the surgeon laughed moving to a cupboard to fetch various herbs and elixirs.

"Screw off, Shae." Hastur said grabbing ahold of her nauseous stomach

The surgeon laughed and proffered a beaker of a bitter smelling concoction"vRelax. I'm only joking with you. Here. Take this. The potion was just as bitter tasting as it smelled. It was no substitute for coffee, but worked in a pinch."So, tell me all about your night."

Of all the clerics that the half elf worked with, Shae Wren was her favorite coworker. The two were like sisters. Despite their obvious physical differences. She had flawless pale skin, long pitch black hair that flowed down to the middle of her back. She had narrow almond shaped eyes that were a soft brown hue.

"Long story short, my roommate and I got drunk after we got done with a bounty job."

"So you're a bounty hunter now?" chuckled Shae "Are you going to roam the countryside in search of bandits and monsters to slay." Shae continued to laugh as she made a heroic pose imitating the stance of a victorious warrior.

"Don't get me wrong. I would love to leave this gods-forsaken city. But I'm not cut out for seeing the real world just yet. As a healer, I got a huge target on my back."

"Don't worry Hast, I'm sure you'll find your brave knight to whisk you away. But do tell me more about this roommate. Whats he like?"

Hastur's first few patience for the day was the usual, poor children ill with a simple flu, laborers who had broken limbs due to a careless accident, and a few of the city guards that were bravely fending off the foul beasts that threatened the peaceful denizens inside Hayak's walls.

The rest of the day was in constant repetition: change cloth bandages; administer herbal ointments and minor potions; banter with Shae Wren, use her healing magic to cure minor injuries; and if need be, reset broken limbs and suture open wounds shut.

An 8-hour shift of caring for others went by at a moderate pace. Her only issue was at the end of her day. Hastur had just bid farewell to Shae in the Monastery's apothecary.

"Try not to go on too many Bounty missions okay?" chuckled Shae

Hastur retorted while raising her cowl over her ears. "Yeah, yeah. Try not to be such a gossip."

Hastur swung the door to the apothecary and found a monastery acolyte standing on the other side, their hand poised to knock on the door.

'Sister Prynn?" the robed student asked with a voice as soft as a mouse

"Yes? How can I help you?" Hastur asked adjusting the satchel strap over her shoulder

"The Mother Superior has requested an audience with you. May you follow me please?"

The mage's heart sank. A summons by the Matron was something nobody would rightly refuse. She followed her guide silently through the cloisters as both cloaked figures scuttled across the campus to the top tower of the Northern Ward. The spiral stone steps up the tower were dizzying to say the least. To those who have not made the climb before, it was enough to cause a bout of vertigo. At the top of the stairwell was a single oak door with iron fittings. Having delivered his subject, the Acolyte gave Hastur a silent bow before disappearing down the steps.

Hastur's hand hovered over the door knocker. Her heart raced as her mind tried to imagine what was the reason behind the call to the Mother Superior's quarters. As far as she knew she was preforming her duties to the letter. Not a single patient was being neglected. Her bedside manner was impeccable. Not to mention her studies were always met with acceptable outcomes.

A stern voice from the other side called for her. The unexpected outburst made the half elf jump, not to mention make her heart race even faster. "Please come in, Sister Prynn." The voice said with a minor accent of impatience

The cleric nervously gulped before pushing the heavy door inwards. Her fears had to be pushed aside. It was best to face whatever outcome with honor, not cowardice.

The Matron's chamber was filled with the heavy aroma of lavender and vanilla. A large desk sat in the middle of the chamber. An eastern window, were four wooded armchairs surrounding a low table. To the north was a modest bed with a marigold colored veil surrounding the bedframe. Candles sat strategically, providing the room with ample lighting to read.

And there, lighting the last of the candles was an old crone, about 80 or more years old wearing a light red gown under a black scapular, a gold cord belt secured the vestments around her waist. Atop her head was a round cap with a soft gauze-like marigold wimple veil draped modestly over her head and hanging off her shoulders.

"Good evening, Mother Illisa." Hastur greeted keeping her eyes low in reverence to the elder.

The Holy Woman spoke without taking her attention from the candles "Ah, Sister Prynn. How are you?"

"I-I am fine…y-you wished to see me?"

"Indeed." The matron flicked her wrist to extinguish the twig she used to ignite the columns of candles "Would you care for some tea?" she offered gesturing over to the East window.

The half elf took a seat across from the patron. Her body was rigid with anxiety. She closely watched every small gesture the matron made as if to expect a thrashing at any moment. Before this, she never truly meet the Matron of Hayak. But she did hear stories. In her youth Matron Illisa was a powerful mage. She alone had slain countless hordes of beast and undead alike. Aside from the Duke himself, Mother Superior Illisa was the most powerful and revered woman in the Hold.

Pouring herself and the young cleric, a cup of tea, Mother Illisa caught eyes with the young elf. In that instant, Hastur's eyes dashed down out of fear. Hastur looked down at the intricate design of the woven mats under her feet. The porcelain tea cup and saucer rattled in the half elf's trembling hands. The steam of the refreshing tea filled the air with a warm scent of rejuvenation. It was at this moment that the holy woman broke her stoic silence.

"Relax, child." Mother Illisa said in a grandmotherly tone.

The cleric nervously set down the tea cup. She let out a sigh, trying to quell the storm of anxiety within her. "I-Is there a problem Mother Illisa?"

The old priestess silently sipped her tea and gave an uncertain hum at the question. "Problem?"

"One doesn't get called to the chamber of the Matron of Hayak solely for a cup of tea and a visit." She said with a brittle smile before darting her eyes down to the mat below.

"Not particularly. Tell me Sister Prynn. How are you?"

"I'm well…" Hastur's heart couldn't take the ache anymore, she had to know what amount of trouble she was in. "Mother Illisa. Is this about my failures in the South Ward? For I have performed my duties to the best of my abilities. And-"

"Dear child, there is no complaint against you. Your work in the Ward is terrific. You have learned well and have cared for many in your time here."

A great wave of relief washed over the half elf. Her greatest fear was disappointing such a prestigious matriarch or the reputation of such a facility as this monastery.

"Is this about me being late this morning? I'm so Sorry! It will never happen again!

"Child!" snapped the matron raising her index finger to declare the youth's attention "I will let you a small secret. I have slept in everyday since I was your age. Why, just this morning I awoken to the sounds of the noon bells and a group of attendants banging on my door to settle a matter of some paperwork nonsense."

Hastur let out a long sigh. She could feel her heat slow its fast pace. Perhaps this was just a social call after all.

"But! there is one matter I wish to discuss." The matron said gently setting her cup and saucer. Hastur glanced up and spotted a sly little look in the Matron's eye.

There it was. Much like many elderly people, Mother Illisa held back her one grievance till the last minute. As a way to keep the subject in a false sense of calm before she lays in, to harshly chew out the subject. It felt like a spike piercing her core. There had to of been one thing that she over looked. One patient not left treated, one small mishap done while brewing a healing potion, it had to of been something.

"I understand that there was a small altercation this morning at a local coffee house. Care to talk about that?"

'So that's what this is about' Hastur thought to herself "How did you even-"

"My dear, there are very few things that go on in Hayak without me knowing of them. So tell me. What happened this morning?"

Hastur finished the rest of her tea in one gulp. She let out a long sigh and fessed up to her actions "There were these nobles that were insulting my kin. I got angry. So I…I cast a hex on them. It was only a minor Bout of Misfortune. It would only last for a few minutes. It was the least I could have done. They deserved that."

All the while, Mother Illisa sat back, poured herself another cup and listened to everything. Her expression showed no sign of disdain nor acceptance for the half elf's actions. When Hastur was don explaining every detail of what the hex caused onto the nobles, the matron broke her silence.

"It's true, racism is an appalling factor that is a part of everyday life. The Elven race is truly mistreated here in the city. The harsh taxes against them, the constant mistrust, and its not just to them. The Dwarves and Halflings too are included."

"So you agree. My actions were just."

"No, they were not. You can't just go about dispensing justice when you feel like it. Especially when you use magic. The best course of action should have been to simply do nothing."

The half elf sat back in her seat and let out an internal groan. 'of course she wouldn't understand.' She thought

"Sister Prynn, may I ask, why are you here?"

"You called for me." Said trying to hide her growing anxiety

"Don't play wise with me, child. Why are you here? In Hayak."

Hastur looked down at the mat again. She memorized every small detail of the geometric design. She traced her eyes over every spiral and zig-zag pattern she had in her vision.

"I came to Hayak to master the healing arts and help others in their need."

"Which you have done. Now my dear, what is your next step?"

Her mind went blank. Despite being so methodical in her every action and always having a plan. For once she didn't know what to do. Since coming to Hayak she didn't exactly have a plan. Only a dream. A goal of exploring and trying to fulfill that expectation of healing brave warriors or defeating evil beings.

"Dear child, I believe I have an opportunity for you. I am in need of an assistant-."

Hastur's heart sank yet again. 'So this is what she wanted. This old crone wants me to be her secretary. Great. It will be signing papers and fetching tea for the next couple years. Gods help me.'

The Matron's brow contorted into a series of looks. She took another sip and sighed heavily "As I was saying, I have need for an assistant to go out on calls into the Hold and assist with rather..._pressing _matters."

"That...would sound rather interesting. Yes I would be glad to assist you Mother Superior."

The old woman's weathered lips cracked into a soft grin. "I'm sure it would be much more exciting than paperwork and fetching tea. Now go enjoy your night, my dear."

The young mage bowed as she made for the door. She found her mind busy with contemplating this information. While her body acted on instinct.

A fount of questions rushed through her head. Her soul was fluttering excitedly. She weighed the choices before her on one hand she might be able to do some real good in this world. On the other it was a venture that might be too difficult for her. An apprenticeship under the Matron Superior herself would be a once in a lifetime opportunity for her. She could learn so much. And the risk of traveling on her errands could be fatal.

Hastur blinked her eyes and found herself closing the door. Her hand was in the process of pulling the heavy door shut. Before the latches touched, she threw the door back open. Gleaming with optomism.

"I'll do it!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Next Job

Thaelin stood against the door of the boarding room: arms crossed, a cocky smirk out of the corner of his lips. His eyes darted across the room trying to follow the busy half-elf who was packing a satchel that was almost bursting at the seams with unnecessary articles.

"Are you sure you don't need my help on this?" he said watching Hastur tuck a third notebook into the main compartment of the satchel.

The Mage struggled trying to buckle the overflowing pack. "Yes, for the fifth time. I think that a mage trained in the healing arts and a fully competent adult can fend for herself."

"Kessier is a dangerous region. There's a lot of beasts in that forest. You would more than likely need a guide."

The cleric rolled her eyes at the attempt to persuade himself going with. "I. Will. Be Fine! Now don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. It's gonna be at least two days before I get back. So don't get arrested, _again_."

The young man replied with a simple shrug. He didn't necessarily doubt his roommate's ability to fend for herself, but watching her got all nervous over a simple request was still pretty funny. With her satchel overflowing, the half elf turned her attention to her armaments. She grabbed her sword belt from the peg on the door and retrieved the small chest from under her bed. Given the possible warning about Kessier Forest, she wasn't going to pass up the chance to brandish her dagger. The healer adjusted the little blade to her left side to the small of her back, and lugged the heavy satchel over her left shoulder.

Hastur stood before her roommate and gestured for him to step aside. The man smirked and obliged with a dramatic bow. He then gestured for her to walk by with a wave of his hands. his smile brightened when he heard the door close. The ranger re-crossed his arms as he walked across the room to the fireplace. He leaned against the mantle while he unfolded one arm to count backwards with his free hand '5…4…3…2…1…'

The door swung open swiftly as the cleric, brightly red-faced, grabbed her yellow cloak from the peg next to the doorway. She glared across from Thaelin with a look of total embarrassment and annoyance.

"Don't you say a fucking word!"

And Thaelin did no such thing. He simply waved goodbye, all with the biggest arrogant smile the cleric had ever seen. The boarding room slammed shut with a loud bang and Thaelin let out the longest laugh he had bottled up. Never in his life had he seen somebody so ill prepared and over excited about a short venture into the woods. It was almost adorable to watch the would be adventurer stroll off into the fray.

With the amusement still making him chuckle, Thaelin turned his attention to some business he had been procrastinating on: the next bounty hunt. On his side of the dining table he flipped through the stack of wanted posters.

The felons of Hayak were an ugly bunch. Each sketching of the criminals looked the same more or less. Tall or short, they all had the same faces. Scrunched up scowls, weathered scars, and always having blank and intimidating eyes. Another way how they were all the same, was how they acted once caught. They would barter for their freedom, try to kill their hunter, or simply turn out to be absolute frauds. Page after page he searched through the stack. Trying to find one that would be equally as amusing as it would be profitable. Almost half way through and he couldn't find the right mark.

"Nah, nah, nah, maybe later… ooh! Here we go." The man smiled at the face on the wanted poster. A rather innocent looking boy. The bounty for apprehending him was 300 gold. A fair bounty for a quick day at work. And with no past crimes, this was too good a chance to pass up.

Thaelin Fridulf fastened on his hardened leather cuirass, vambraces, shin guards, and his weapons belt. He notched a bolt into his pistol crossbow and belted on the drop leg holster for it. Fully armed, he cracked his fingers and prepared himself for the hunt. He had his prey in his mind. Now he had to track them.

The city of Hayak was alive and well. Industry was booming, citizens bustled about, and somewhere there was a criminal that was about to be brought to justice. To an untrained mind, this would be sensory overload: all the sounds, colors, and smells to the markets of the Forge District, there were races of Men, Dwarf, Halfling, and even Gnome all participating in commerce.

The ranger snaked his way through the laneways of the streets trying to find his destination. Approaching up ahead, clanking forward in precise formation was a squadron of six knights of Hayak's Militia Order. They were prideful warriors sworn to promote the peace, stability, and protection of its citizens. Their goody-two-shoes, greater than thou attitudes were enough to make the bounty hunter nauseous.

A man with long flowing blond hair, the Captain of the patrol, was a burly looking man. He had a slight scar along his upper lip. Out of the crowds before him he, one man caught his eye, a ranger. A despicable breed of men that had no reason for being in a civilized area as Hayak. When he came within distance the Captain shoulder checked the ranger. Making the man stagger into a near-by fruit stall.

Thaelin glared at the patrol, each man and woman in clanking plate armor smirking at the act. The ranger grabbed his wrist and made a vulgar gesture while yelling a Dwarven slur about each of their mothers and her questionable conduct.

The bounty hunter found a prime vantage point close to an intersection in the streets. From here he could oversee the marketplace and spot his prey. The man raised his cowl, crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall. the cool shady bricks were a treat to escape the humid day.

A hurried pair of footsteps scuffled through the marketplace. A young man, not close to the end of his teenage years, crept like a scared rat through the laneways. His head darted to and fro in the search of any incoming official. The young man tilted the brim of his worn straw hat low to shade his face. The young man ducked from a group of shoppers to a nearby circle of people trying to blend into the crowd as much as he could. He took a seat on a stone bench next to a drowsy looking man. The patter of a nearby water fountain gave the boy a much needed respite. He gazed at the shimmering streams of water being spraying forth from their stone lips of two stone rusalka maidens wrapped around each other. Despite the calming surroundings, his heart beat like a drum. It was so loud he expected the man sitting next to him could hear it

"Hi there!" came an overly friendly greeting from the bearded man that sat next to him. The young man jumped when the stranger spoke up. He glanced over and saw the bearded man as some as some stranger trying to make small talk. It was easy to shrug off as his nerves taking the best of him. A brief look over of the stranger showed he was wearing an unusual piece of hardened leather almost like a type of armor. And had bracers on his arms, but no bow strung on his back. A true oddity to be sure.

Still smiling, the bearded man continued to converse with the young man. "Listen kid, don't run. It wont end well for ya."

A small jab at the young man's side proved to be a frightful sight. The point of a dagger was flush with his kidney. Could this be another of his pursuers, or perhaps some new vagrant. A second look over revealed the man to be rather well armed. At least two swords on his belt. and the obvious dagger in hand

"Oh dear!" whispered the boy

"Calm down." Hushed the man, grinning as if he tried to look like some regular citizen enjoying the day. "Now do as I say and don't do anything stupid. Stupid is my job, okay?" the man paused to reach into his belt pouch for a folded note. With one hand, the stranger unfurled the note and looked over the sketching of the boy. "Now, are you…" "Malcom Jokis? Ja-Jacobson? Jacob's son? How in the hells do you pronounce this?"

"I-its Jacobsenson, m-m-mister." Stuttered the boy. A bead of sweat started to form on his brow

"Huh? Are you sure?"

"Yes…Please don't kill me mister I swear I didn't mean to steal the thing, I promise. J-Just let me go please!"

"Hey, I said just be calm. I'm not gonna kill ya. I'm only after a bounty. Now just walk with me to the nearest Constabulary. You can get your help, most importantly I can get paid, and we will all be okay."

"So y-you're not going going to kill me?"

"What? No. Why would-"

The familiar sound of clanking metal returned to the bounty hunter's ears. But this time it was softer. It sounded like a lone prick, instead of a gaggle of pricks.

"By the order of the Militia! Halt fugitive!" came a stern and demanding voice.

Thaelin rolled his eyes at the interruption of the interloper. The Militia had always been ones to disrupt a bounty hunter before, and at times they would take the glory and reward of the capture for themselves. The man stashed away his dagger and flashed his eyes upwards. His blue eyes swelled up to the size of pools at the sight before him. He quickly hung his head low and tried to remain unnoticed by the blue haired warrior in front of them.

"Oh hell no!" Thaelin swore under his breath.

The knight sneered at the sight of the fugitive. Her nose wrinkled and blue eyes glared at the young retch "You are coming with me!" Demanded the warrior

Malcom looked at the hunched man next to him who was silently swearing to himself. The fugitive slowly arose and walked off with the knight behind him. A firm hand clapped on his shoulder and pushed him forward.

With the iron clad woman walking her prisoner away, the bounty hunter grabbed a wooden bucket from the nearby fountain. He scooped up a near full amount of water and hastily paced towards the arresting Paladin. In one fluid motion he dumped the putrid water over the warrior, pushed the bucket onto the woman's head and shoved her aside.

"Not today bitch!" he taunted taking the fugitive by the arm.

The armor-clad warrior let out a ferocious roar in anger. That disgusting trough water. That putrid murky cesspool of unknown diseases was rather chilling. "Get back here!"

The bounty hunter and the target ran through the twists and turns of the narrow allies separating workshops and storehouses. The duo must have circled around and lead the pursuer on a few dead ends by now. The wind flowed through his cape. As he ran, he felt like a bird in flight. He didn't glance back to check on his pursuer. He didn't have to. He could hear her

In the distance, Thaelin could hear a sound that didn't belong in the urban environment. It was a snap of a taught cord and a light whistle.

"Lookout!" he yelled grabbing the boy by the collar. A simple pull backwards separated the criminal and the a few inches in front of his stubby nose was a birch wood arrow with yellow fletching. Three black bands were etched into the bolt's shaft. The bolt's head was embedded into the market stall's post.

Appearing from the crowds like a ghost, was a specter of woe. A white haired woman in a grey and blue hooded jerkin. Her hair covered her right eye and under her left was a sweeping black tattoo. There was an ice-cold chill surrounding her that sent a shiver down the backs of all that looked her way.

"Hello Anha, long time no see." Smirked Thaelin. On the outside he tried to keep a genuine smile, but on the inside he was petrified in terror. In the underbelly of the network of contacts, sell-swords, assassins, and bounty hunters. Names and reputations spread. And among the list of killers, Ahna was on the most feared list.

"Greetings Thaelin. It has been a while, hasn't it?" The specter said, cradling her crossbow in her arms. Her voice was almost sincere and genuine.

"So who sent you? Was it Sejwick? Or was it Hershal? No wait, Vina? It was Vina wasn't it?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. Against professional courtesy. But, Vina does say hello."

"Are you here for me or the boy?"

"The offer is tempting. Vina would be most gracious for your head. But alas, I'm afraid there is no contract for you…_yet_." She said with a grin. "Now, if you please. The boy. Now!"

"I-is she g-gonna kill me?" Malcom stuttered, trying to hide behind Thaelin. Fearful of another bolt being shot his way.

The ranger didn't take his eyes off the specter. He didn't want her to slip away into the crowd. The two squared off each trying to read the other. Both expected the other to act any second.

Creaking towards them was an old wooden wagon being pulled by two mares. The Dwarves driving the nags cursed at the two bounty hunters staring each other down. Simultaneously the duo took one step backwards each. The specter watched a smile form on her opponent's lips. This was just the opportunity he needed. The lucky bastard. Like a flash of lightning, Anha released another bolt that embedded itself in the side of the wagon.

"Damn!" the assassin swore under her breath listening for the sound of running footsteps.

She followed the sounds through the alleys. As crowded as the streets were he would have the advantage here, but two could play this game. As he passed by a nearby blacksmith carrying a hefty sack of powdered sulfur, the man tore the bag from the smith's hands and tossed it backwards at the pursuing killer. A thick cloud of yellow foul smelling dust obscured the woman's vision and choked the air from her. She covered her mouth and fanned away the noxious fumes.

Next to the blacksmith shop was a block and tackle rig where a crate of charcoal was being hoisted up to a storage loft above the shop. The woman grabbed ahold of the rope, and sliced through the hemp cord in one swipe with a dagger. The rope buzzed through the pulley and a full crate of charcoal came crashing down while she came zipping up. Once elevated the specter leapt from her vantage point to a rooftop across from the shop. From here she had her element. Without obstacles, the rooftops were a prime spot to track her prey.

"Do you think we lost her?" Malcom gasped, his lungs burning for air. He needed to stop. But he knew if he did, she would find them

"Yup. That bitch is a crack shot, but she can't track us worth a shit." Thaelin laughed. His ruse had to of pulled off by now. And from this part of the city, it was a straight shot towards the most secured jail in the city

Whizzing past them came bolt after bolt. Seeming to fall from the sky. Each embedding themselves in the dirt. If Thaelin didn't know better he thought that Ahna was going for crippling shots to the legs instead of direct kill shots.

"We didn't lose her! We didn't lose her!" yelled Malcom, covering his head with his hands.

In the western end of the Cloud District sat a city square known as the 'Beer Gardens'. Areas where local breweries would store their casks of ales and strong drinks. It was heavily guarded for obvious reasons and would be the perfect location to hide out. Its streets were more open and the sheer number of buildings would take a long while for someone to search. Surely he could lose the woman there and double back towards the jailers

The criminal and bounty hunter continued on eluding their shadow, but their joy was short lived when Thaelin smacked his chest against a hulking muscle bound beam of flesh. With the built up momentum, Thaelin's feet swung up from under him and he landed square on his back. The air from his lungs escaped him. He laid there gazing upwards dazed of what exactly had just happened to him. The blue sky with streaks of white wisps of smoke seemed just out of reach. The man choked and coughed as the air found its way back into him. In his confusion he found something familiar come into his sight. A hulking behemoth standing over him. His arms as wide as timbers and a ginger-red and grey beard stretched down to the roundest part of his belly.

*ach…ach* "Hey Baldur."

"Thaelin." The man grumbled as he offered a hand to the ranger. His voice was as low as a lion's roar.

Following up behind, Malcom came to a screeching halt. He slid down to his knees trying to help up the only one who hasn't tried to kill him yet. "Mr. bounty hunter, sir. Do you know him?" Whimpered Malcom trying to hid behind his captor.

"Yup… this is Baldur. We go way back." He said chuckling at all mischief the two had done over the years.

The massive man returned the chuckle. "Remember that time in Aldrick?"

The ranger burst out laughing at the memory "I swear. I can't ever pass by a potter's shop without feeling like I have to piss."

Sensing the danger has subsided watching his captor at ease with this new stranger, Malcom began to smile and play along with the merriment "A-are you a murderer too…Mr Baldur, sir?"

The bright bearded man turned to the scrawny lad and gave him a calming smile "Don't worry boy, I've never killed a mark."

Thaelin's smile shot to a frown. "You're after the kid too?"

"Afraid so."

"You know Ahna is after him too."

"That's unfortunate."

"Mmm…hmm."

Once again. Two bounty hunters were in a dead lock. This time, instead of a ruthless assassin, it was a man the size of a golem. Thaelin looked around and tried to find an easy way out. He knew he couldn't fight the man, but he knew he could outsmart him.

"Hey look! A distraction!" Yelled Thaelin

The red bearded giant grumbled not taking his eyes off the sneaky bastard.

"Nice try, buddy."

Thaelin produced a nervous smile "It was worth a shot…Pocket sand!" he yelled this time throwing a handful of yellow dust into the face of his foe. He thanked his Luck for having the idea of clutching a small handful of the dust back when he tried to evade the assassin. The tower fell clutching his eyes and crying at the burning feeling. "Sorry buddy. But you know me. Heres something for your eyes. Thaelin proffered his waterskin next to his friend as a sign of good faith. "Ok, let's move!" he yelled

From behind them, came the sound of footsteps. From the pace in which they echoed, they were coming fast. Thaelin drew out his hand crossbow. He knew a tiny bolt would do nothing to a trained killer, but maybe if his Luck wasn't gone, he would have a chance to stall.

"Mr. Thaelin, sir!? I think that damned sneaky woman has caught our scent again!"

Thaelin glanced back to witness the incoming blue shadow of death. But to his relief it wasn't her, but it was someone else. Someone who still put fear into his soul. "Oh shit."

Her boots squished with each step. Faint little droplets of water fell as her armor jostled. It took her a while to find them. But she managed. All she had to do was track the chaos produced by the bounty hunter.

"Get back here or I will kill you where you stand!" demanded the blue armor clad warrior stomping forward.

"Yes ma'am!" Cried Malcom, standing perfectly still.

The blue haired woman stretched her left arm out, coming within feet of her target. Her right rested on the hilt of her sword. She could almost grasp the boy's shirt collar when suddenly something landed on her like a ton of bricks. A blue and grey streak flew straight down from the rooftops. She tackled the knight to the ground and smirked at the

"Sorry, my dear. But this one is mine." The specter said softly almost to a whisper

The assassin glanced over to Thaelin who was all but trembling. His finger poised onto the trigger of the crossbow. He knew he was no match, but he had to try something. Ahna closed in for the kill. Her dagger left its sheath in a flurry of spins in her hand. It halted with the edge kissing its targets neck.

Malcom could feel the bite of the bloodthirsty blade grazing his neck. All the ghost had to do was press a little harder and he would be gone.

Water splashed down onto the stone and dirt street. The burning subsided down to a painful numb. He couldn't see much but he could as-sure make out a few shapes. And the shape he wanted was standing between him and his target. The behemoth charged towards Ahna and grabbed her in a reverse bear-hug. He threw the woman aside and roared in anger.

The three hunters began to brawl in a mass confusion of a free-for-all fight. Baldur throwing punches, Ahna slashing at her foes indirectly, and Thaelin pulling on Baldur's beard to drag him down to use him as cover from one of Ahna's dagger swipes. The ranger used his short swords to try and both parry the assassin's strikes to protect the massive ginger and protect himself. In all their rough-housing the trio crashed through the doors of a nearby warehouse. Seeing the barrels around him, Baldur grabbed a cask in each of his massive hands. Using the barrels as both melee weapons and as something to throw.

"Wait!" yelled Thaelin. Trying to halt the incoming blade point and a clenched fist from caving in his nose. "Guys. This is stupid. Now how about we just talk this out?"

The assassin and the brawler both looked to each other. Both ran ragged and exhausted after their strenuous hunt. A streak of blood ran down the side of Ahna's lip and Baldur's eyes were swollen red. Both had enough conflict for one day.

"Fine." They agreed.

Thaelin sheathed one of his swords and used the other to gesture with as he spoke. He made an argument about how the three of them knew each other and their past experiences. All the while, he paced around the room stalling for time before another fight would break out. In the corner of his eye, he say an opportunity to free himself of the competition.

"Lets have a drink." He said walking towards two massive 12ft tall barrels of beer. Both resting on their sides with a spigot towards the bottom. The ranger tried his hardest to hold back his excited smile. Once they were within range. Thaelin turned to his comrades and gave them a toast. "Cheers!" he said using his sword to slice off both spigots allowing a spew of thick brown beer shoot from the spigot holes and douse the fellow bounty hunters.

Ahna and Baldur collapsed under the heavy jet of intoxicating spray. Their clothes weighted down, their weapons torn from their grasp, and the foamy brew making the ground under them slippery.

Back at the mouth of the warehouse, the blue haired knight, the fourth party hat had no true stake in this claim, groaned as she awoke to the pungent smell of cheap beer. Her eyes flashed open to the sight of two reckless rogues collapsed in a pool of booze. Hundreds of dollars of damaged property came in the wake of those who caused this. But, her foul mood seemed to finally take a change for the better when she saw the reason she was pursuing the trio was stealthily trying to creep away.

She clapped a solid hand on the boys shoulder and pulled the young man back. "Don't! just don't. I've had a tiring day."

Speeding up behind her came the sound of running footsteps a blur in a leather doublet slammed a small pony keg over the knight's head. Lodging itself in place. For a second time now, the warrior's head was splashed with a noxious liquid that made her vow to kick whoever's ass that keeps doing that. The ranger gave the woman a kick aside and returned to escorting his fugitive to the jails. This time without more interlopers getting in the way.

Steam from a hot bath filled the air of the private barrack room. a fresh pair of fatigue clothes were set out for the knight. Her day laborious was winding to an end. She had failed to apprehend her initial target, but did manage to find and arrest two well-known troublemakers. But since there was no official bounty on them all she got was the appreciation of her commanders, and the admiration of her subordinates. Just as she sat down to polish her armor from the sticky brown residue, there was a knock that came to her door.

At the foot of her doorway there was nobody, save for a small leather coin purse. Tied shut with a leather cord and a note written with the words "_Sorry about today, __myshka_."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Help

Every soul has their own morning rituals. Whether its meditation over scripture, sharpening your weapons for a day of combat, or feasting on a hearty breakfast to fuel your day of labor. The morning is a magical time. No two moments are the same and for a duo of would be adventurers, their mornings are certainly never the same.

In her straw mattress bed, the half elf cleric, Hastur Prynn, smelt a faint aroma that was extremely out of place. She blinked her eyes open to the peculiar sweet smell of crackling bacon and eggs filling their room. Rubbing the sleep gunk from her tired eyes, found something even more out of place. Breakfast. Breakfast being cooked by her roomate.

The center dining table was neatly cleaned. All scattered books and wanted posters were stacked in the center of the table. At both ends of the table were tin plates with steaming helpings of bacon slices, crispy toast slices, and a pitcher of milk ready for the healers end of the table. Odder yet, was her roommate. Her was fully awake. He was singing one of his bawdy tunes.

_ "Oh on the twentieth day of May, of all days of the year, sir,_

_A virgin lady, fresh and gay, did privately appear, sir._

_Hard by a riverside got she, and did sing loud, the rather,_

_For she was sure she was secure, and had intent to bath her"_

_ "With glittering glancing jealous eyes, she shyly looks about, sir,_

_To see if any lurking spies were hid to find her out, sir._

_And being well resolved that none could see her nakedness, sir,_

_She pulled her robes off, one by one, and did herself undress, sir."_

With skillet in hand, he flipped the final slices of bacon. The cook looked over to Hastur and nodded. "Morning. Bacon?"

Hastur stared at the strange scene. She ducked behind the changing screen. Every once in a while, she peeped over the screen to make sure he was truly her lazy roommate. "S-sure."

Fully clothed in her usual shirt, jerkin, and trousers she emerged from behind the screen ever cautious. She looked over the man to see if he was indeed himself. He had is usual scruffy bear, his short messy hair, and he even walked with his usual swagger. "Thaelin? Are you feeling okay?

The man wiped the grease from his fingers on his leather doublet. "Yeah."

The half-elf went on with her breakfast. The bacon was fried extra crispy, the eggs scrambled and fluffy. Every minute or so she would still glance at the man. There was something strange going on and she was going to find out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her first clues. The man's knapsack was swollen with items and his cloak wrapped into a bedroll.

"Going somewhere?" she asked gesturing towards the door

"Yup"

"Gonna tell me where?"

"Nope."

The two didn't often keep secrets from each other. They were both fairly laxed around the other. But if one were going to go on a trip, the least they would do is give them a notice.

Thealin wiped the last bits of grease from his plate with his toast. It crunched and he savored the unique flavor of blackberry jam mixed with bacon fat. He washed it all down with a tankard of milk and made his way to the door. His shortsword hanging on his right hip and his bollock dagger slid to the front. He slung on the pack over his shoulder and reached for the latch.

"Hold it!"

A pair of light blue chains wrapped around his ankles. The chains appeared to come from under the wood floor itself. Thaelin looked back to see Hastur's raised hand. Glowing with the same blue light. Her eyes focused.

The man shrugged. "Seriously? You're lucky I don't know magic. Otherwise-"

"-Otherwise, I would still out class you. Now talk. where are you going?"

The man rolled his eyes. "Hunting, are you happy now?"

The chain's grip tightened more. Hastur crooked her head to the side. "Why don't I believe you?"

"Well it's the truth, Hast. Now let me go. I'm late.

The light from the mage's palm flashed before fading away. The chains loosened their grip and sunk down into the wooden planks they came from. She crossed her arms and swore n her native tongue "Fine, but if you get hurt, don't come crawling back to me. You're not getting help from me."

The door closed with a slam and Hastur buried her face in her palm. "Jackass."

The rest of Hastur's day was spent in libraries and bookshops in the Cloud District. She spent her time pouring over tomes of alchemy and the arcane arts. Studying the recipes used by some mages in producing more potent elixirs for healing common colds, aiding in mending broken bones, and even in the regeneration of severely damaged organs. In her pursuit of knowledge, she came well known among book dealers as a favored customer. Her friendly nature and in depth discussions on the author's works.

Her favorite shop was one located in a small nook along the city's Eastern wall. From the outside it looked like any normal shop. Save for the green trimmed windows and door. Once inside, the cleric lowered her hood. The smell of peaceful incense hung in the air. At the main desk, a tall older man with slicked back white hair. A pair of sharply pointed ears twitched hearing her footsteps approach. He greeted the mage in a soft and gentle voice. His words spoken in an ancient tongue rarely said in the city. Hastur returned the greeting.

The mage paced around the shelves. Admiring the perfume of old books, dust, and the incense. Hours passed by without a notice. Every once in a while, she would return to the desk with another book added to her purchase. _Herbal plants of the tundra lands_, _Notes of the Kingdom of Erandd_, and _The 4__th__ Tome of Gerrad Ollmek_.

When purchasing her stack of books, the old elf at the desk reached under the counter for a parcel wrapped in rough brown. The clerk spoke to the mage in their native tongue.

"_Your friend's order has arrived ahead of schedule_." this was the closest translation that could be made. In actuality, 'friend' was the closest word that could best be used to describe the ranger while still being polite.

When the cleric left the bookstore, she was amazed at how much time had passed by without her knowing. It was already nightfall. The cool night air felt refreshing as she walked . Her soft footsteps tapped lightly against the cobblestones. As she passed a corner she noticed three men standing under a lamp post. Their cold gaze locked on to the passing hooded cleric. Their faced held a wolf-ish grin. A rather unsettling grin. As she walked by, three letches could hear the jingle of silver coins rattle in her coin purse. An easy target with a profitable outcome.

The sounds of more footsteps echoed behind Hastur's own footsteps. She instinctively grabbed ahold of her coin purse. She could sense the incoming conflict. This wouldn't happen if she had her partner. Without Thaelin walking with her, she felt so vulnerable. But she had a ploy to attempt. If they could think that she was intimidating, they would know not to mess with her.

As she walked, she made her feet fall harder against the cobblestones. She will stop, turn around and threaten them to leave her alone. Hastur placed her other hand on the hilt of her dagger. It wasn't much, but she would be able to defend herself if needed.

Before she could enact her plan she felt her hood get ripped off her head and a forceful tug pulled her backwards. The clasp of her cloak pinched into her neck. One man moved her around to face her thieves. He walked behind her and held onto her arms. When the letch brushed away the hair on the side of her head and gestured towards her tapered ears.

"Oi! Looky here boyos. We got ourselves an elf." Said the thug behind her. She could smell and feel the man's disgusting breath against her neck.

"You know, thems Elves are an odd bunch. They keep to themselves in the forests. Who knows what they is planning. This 'un mights be a spy for em!" declared the second one in front of her. In the dim light of the street, Hastur could make out a distinct crescent scar along his chin etching up towards his right eye.

The third kept his mouth shut. But his head was on a swivel. Keeping an eye open for a city guard that might pass by on their patrol.

"Scream and we cut yer pretty little neck, lass" warned the first man

"Alright yuh damned Elf. Hand over your coin and we might not hurt yuh as much" the scarred man said smiling at Hastur's fear.

The cleric struggled to get free. The more she tried to pull away, the tighter their grip got around her arms. The wretches in Hayak were a despicable sort. The cut-purse thieves were not afraid to draw blood if an altercation would unfold. But the thieves would tend to abandon any theft if they realized their prey was a powerful mage or warrior.

She would have just one chance to bluff her way out of this. Hastur thought 'What would Thaelin do?' the cleric looked the man in the eyes and gave a soft chuckle. An evil smirk formed.

"Let me go now or I won't kill you all." She snarled.

The three men laughed as the scarred man drew out a rusted long knife.

"Is that suppose' to be a threat?" Asked the scarred man inching the knife closer to her face. "Yer kinda pretty for an elf. Be a shame to ruin sucha pretty thing."

Since intimidation didn't work, now it was her chance to prove her mettle. She cocked her head down and slammed it back into the face of the man restraining her. She could hear the cartilage in the man's nose. The sudden force caused the man to loosen his grip just enough the cleric could pull herself free. In one fluid graceful motion, the half elf preformed a pirouette while drawing out her dagger. It wasn't going to properly defend herself like her rapier could, but it will have to work. She kept a vice like grip on the slender hilt of the smaller weapon.

"I warned you. Now leave or else!" she growled trying to sound fierce.

The men chuckled again. Both drawing out more rusted knives. By the way they stood hunched forward, arms out to the side. They were more experienced and prepared for a fight.

"Leave this un to me lads." The scarred man said smiling like a devil. He could see the fear radiate in the half elf's eyes, just behind her scowl.

In her left hand the cleric pointed the double edged dagger at the man. She inched her way backwards trying to create as much distance between them. In her right hand she clenched her fist and silently muttered an incantation. Her fingertips shone with a pale green aura. She would have only one chance to do this spell. And depending on how well she could focus through her pounding heart and fearful thoughts. It could either save her life or end it.

With one swipe of the dagger, Hastur distracted the thug just enough to plant a slap against his bare arm. The men laughed at the feeble hit. It felt like she barely touched him. And this made her nervous that the spell wouldn't work.

The man took another step, sizing himself up before he could butcher and rob the woman before him. After the first step, he felt a tingle, as if needles were dragging against his skin. The tingle quickly intensified to a warm feeling. He looked down and in the lamplight he saw a handprint on his pale skin. The print started with a faint yellowness, then gradually turned brighter into a pale green as it began to burn. The pain from the burn encased his whole left arm, gradually creeping its way up to his left side. Puss filled blisters formed and the handprint changed darker into a rotting blackness. The thug howled in pain. The burning and an excruciating pain resonated in his lungs. His breathing became rapid, strenuous, and wheezing.

Hastur smiled. Her plan started to work. She never practiced this spell before and the effects were interesting to say the least. A simple touch. A prod. Or a slap could lead to such beautiful outcomes.

The two other men stared in horror as their compatriot fell to one knee. Choking on his panicked breath before collapsing onto his back. The scarred man began to cry in pain. A faint stream of blood formed in the corner of his mouth. The infection seeped forward covering the left side of his face. Seeing the effects of the spell in full, the two would-be thieves bolted away fearing that a spell worse than that sat in the mage's mind.

The half elf stood over her victim she knelt down to observe the effects more closely. The blisters covered the exposed portions of skin. Some burst and a foul odorous ooze leaked out pooling with the blood being coughed up. The thug's chest slowly would rise and fall. She could imagine how horrible each breath must be for him. She looked into the man's eyes. All she could see was inexpressible pain. While she admired her handiwork, she saw something that concerned her. It was her Keh, her soul. In the reflection she saw her smile. The enjoyment of the pain she caused.

In the blink of an eye, she expelled the vile enjoyment and felt sorry for the wretch. Hastur knelt down to the victim. The cleric cradled his head in her right arm and in her left she dug out the healing potion she obtained the other day. Half of the thick, warm, potion trickled down the man's throat and almost instantly his breathing became slow and regulated.

"By know you should be able to understand what I'm saying." She educated still cradling the man's head. Tears poured from her eyes as she comforted the crook. "I want you to know that I am sorry for my actions. Truly, I am. But you should take this as a lesson. There are those without mercy in this world. They would not think twice to leave you dying in the gutter. But remember this. Do not harass me or the Elves in Hayak ever again. Or else." She said placing her lips to the man's greasy forehead before leaving the man to heal alone in the gutter

Hastur's heart raced as fast as her feet on her way back to the sanctuary of her boarding house. She couldn't believe she could do that. When she first learned of that spell, she only thought it would be a mild self-defense spell. Something meant to scare away an attacker could be used in such a destructive way. She prayed that Mother Illisa would never hear of this. There was no telling if the city guards would pursue her or the thugs. Or if the thugs would gather a mob to drive away the half elf. With only two blocks away, Hastur began to feel anger more than fear. Of all the times Thaelin decided to leave now was the worst.

It was this very reason why she needed him. People knew not to disturb rangers. And they also knew not to disturb their companions. When they were traveling in the city, thugs like that never threatened them. They knew better. But when a measly healer would travel alone at night, she would be a prim target for all sorts of vagabonds to pilfer or rob.

There was no light coming from the boarding room window. No faint wisps of smoke from their fireplace. The half elf closed the door behind her and held out her hand. She focused a small orb of light to manifest in her palm. The charred remains of a few log remnants and a pile of ash. Their boarding room was cold and dark. His bed was still messy, and his presence still couldn't be felt. She almost began to worry. Not entirely for him, but for her what happened in the street, and for her plans. She needed him. And this going AWOL on some whim was not to her liking. "Where are you Thaelin?"

That night, Hastur couldn't sleep. Her mind was flashing with thoughts of the attack, the idea of "what if the Mother Superior learns of the altercation." and where was her friend. The parcel from the bookstore could give her clues. The bundle contained a total of four books: _Hammerlock's Expedition into Windshear Wastes_, _Bestiary of the Southern Coasts_, _The Lusty Argonian Maid_, and _Introductory knife skills_.

"Thaelin, where in the Hells are you?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: A Ranger's folly

A warm summer breeze washed into Hayak Monastery's infirmary. The soothing perfume of fresh flowers kept a positive atmosphere for all those laying in the infirmary beds. Thaelin's eyes flickered open as the bright morning light shined in. he tried to shade his eyes but found the slightest movement sent his body riddling with aches and pains. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the brightness.

The first thing he saw was the fluttering white shades of the windows in front of him. The aire smelled sweet with flowers. It took him a moment to realize he was back in Hayak. He let a juvenile smirk crack upon his lips as he came to. The slightest movement rocked his body with the full extent of his injuries. His arms and legs felt heavy with exhaustion. "Well…that just happened." He said jokingly

The man looked to his side and saw his bed neighbor. A city guard roughly in his 40's gingerly bracing his leg. The rear barbs of an arrowhead were lodged just under the man's knee cap. The guard winced in pain as the slightest movement of the leg sent pain wringing through him. He looked over at the newly awoken man. Who was grinning with absolute joy.

Thaelin struggled to hold back a laugh. "L-let me guess. You used to be an adventurer like me, right?"

The guard snarled and swore under his breath about the remark.

Heavy clanking footsteps heralded a sense of dread into the man. He sunk down into his bed and tried to cover his face with his blanket like a frightened child. The footsteps continued down the hall. Booming louder the closer they got. Then ominously, they stopped. Just shy of his bed. Thaelin slowly peeked his head out from under the covers and found a rare sight. An enraged cleric.

A pair of amber eyes glaring furiously at him. Unblinking and breaming with messages of rage. The first thoughts that came to Hastur's mind were: stupidity, hubris, and arrogance. All were clear signs of his predicament. But she had to restrain herself. As a professional, she had to limit her vocabulary to appropriate words. "Start explaining! Now!"

The man couldn't help but give out a nervous laugh. "Gotta say, Hastur, you really need to work on your bed side manner."

The half elf's tapered ears twitched. She tried to remind herself that within these walls, there shall be no signs of aggression. Only peace and assistance are allowed. She let out a harsh sigh before tucking her hair back behind her right ear. "Perhaps, you weren't as clear earlier when you said you were hunting. What? Were? You hunting?"

The scenes of his fight flashed before his eyes. But among those harrowing sights there was one pressing matter he had to deal with. "Where's my bag?" he said rapidly turning his head side to side searching for the knapsack. "I had a knapsack with me. Where is it, Hastur? Tell me it was with me when they brought me here?"

From those pair of river blue colored eyes, there was a semblance of panic over the missing pack. "Chill out. Your precious bag is fine. Now talk. What happened to you?

The ranger hesitated for a short time. He tried to sit up in his bed the best he could. Every little motion he made in rolling his shoulder, lead to immense ache shooting from his arms to his core. "Well like I said, I was hunting."

"Hunting what? Don't tell me you went 'sell-sword' again did you? I thought you said you were beneath that."

"Hey, I'm no damn cut-throat. I may be a son of o bitch, but I'm not about killing for no reason."

"Then what fucked you up so badly? You look like you went on a romp with a horde of Orcish whores." She demanded trying to coax an answer using their familiar gruff euphemisms.

Thaelin pursed his lips trying to think of a proper response that won't rouse the half elf's temper anymore. A slight whistle came out as he sighed his answer "Dracco-Gemma Topazus."

Those three words whirled around in the healer's head trying to make sense of the cryptic response. The words were obviously that of a scientific reference. But she couldn't think of the terms. She thought back to the bundle of books hoping for an easy answer. And then it clicked into place.

Hastur jumped from her seat. Her chair crashed backwards behind her. Emotions flared in her heart "Of all the moronic things…do you realize…how… I can't. I am literally, not figuratively mind you. Literally, lost for words." The half elf paced around the man's hospital bed closely resembling a wolf circling a wounded faun.

Thaelin just sat back, resting his head against the plank of the bed's headboard as the belittlement went forth. This certainly wasn't going to be the last time he would receive a tongue lashing from his partner. A nearby official came running to the two, trying to squall the torrent of foul language and obscene gestures being made by the colleague. His robes fluttering with every rushed step he took.

"Sister Prynn." He said in a tender voice "I must ask that you calm yourself at once, or I will be required to have you removed from the premises."

"Apologies, Brother Balken." She said waving off the attendant "I'm just explaining to my friend here that I am displeased with his recklessness."

"I'm certain you can continue this conversation, another time." The attendant said looking at the man's discomfort.

"Yup." The ranger said throwing his blankets off him "Well Hast, I think its about lunch time. Soup is on me." The ranger hoisted his knapsack up and slung it over his shoulder. He tugged at his cloak, being sure to conceal the pack best he could. Lastly he belted on his sword belt. Adjusting each blade into a comfortable spot that was easy to reach for given the bulking pack on his shoulders.

The Healer grabbed her satchel and raised her cowl before exiting the Monastery. Around them was the usual afternoon rush of the Forge District's market street. On both sides of the street, storefronts were wide open with customers crowding around the vendor stalls. Selling everything from fresh vegetables, finely crafted jewelry, hefty axes, and multiple homeware items. The roar of the merchants crying for customers and the meaningless chatter of shoppers created a dull of ambient sounds. The two walked side by side in an awkward silence. Thaelin was clearly limping with every step. One hand was resting on the hilt and the other swinging casually.

"So tell me." She said, annoyance still brewing in her voice "How exactly did you managed to get fucked up by an overgrown lizard?"

"Those scaly bastards are tough, regardless of all the hero's making pompous stories how they 'fell the mighty beast in a single blow'. He put up a hell of a scrap."

"Clearly" she replied rolling her eyes.

"The lizard fought well, and I got some good hits in with my darlings," he said patting his sword hilt and dagger on his hip "But the beast bitched out and we made a deal."

"So you _didn't_ kill a dragon?"

"Nope."

"Damn. And here I was gonna buy the first round at the tavern."

"Shit! Why is it that things just are not going my way this day?" The ranger tugged at the gold coin around his neck to rub his thumb over the well-worn profile "Maybe my luck is messed up."

The more they walked, the more awkward the silence stayed between them. "So what is in the pack? Don't tell me you stole a dragon egg."

Thaelin grabbed the knapsack a little more tightly. He pursed his lips tightly trying to keep the contents of the bag a secret. "Nah, you know how Madame Glassgate is with pets in the apartment."

"True. You just seem like the type of guy to want to hatch a baby dragon so you could train it to go around and steal gold and junk."

The man stopped in the center of the laneway. his head tilted back looking up towards the bright sky above. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled loud enough to get the attention of a few shoppers.

"What's the matter?"

"I should have done that!" he sighed hanging his head low as he continued onward "I heard that there's these kids on the northern islands that learned how to train dragons. They found out how to make them all docile and could even ride them. Can you believe that shit?"

"Sounds like a children's story to me." Hastur shrugged "So where are we going?"

"Right here." He said pointing to the weathered sign of a large white diamond. The paint starting to peel off in some places. Inside the shop was a large display glass case holding a purple woolen sheet with shining gold and silver finery placed about. Pendants with centerpiece jewels the size of grapes. One couldn't help but smile at the sight of such treasures.

Behind the front counter was a dwarf in a finely cut tunic, green braids woven along the edges of the collar. On each hand the dwarf had array of gold and silver rings on each of his stubby fingers. His long red beard was also decorated with shining beads and decorations.

"How may I help you?" Said the dwarf, clapping his stout hands together.

Thaelin unslung his well-guarded knapsack and carefully set the bulky pack on the glass counter. It clanked as it made contact with the glass. He unbuttoned the wooden toggles and gingerly removed a large bundle of cloth. Hastur couldn't help but watch in wonder, her right eyebrow raised, trying to surmise the contents

The bundle unraveled to reveal a large uncut ruby the size of a small melon. The color a beautiful reddish-pink, the edges sharp and fractured, the exterior had a low quality polish, but was still smooth to the touch.

"How much ya give for this?" Thaelin asked with an accomplished smirk. His arms crossed basking in the glory of Hastur's jaw dropped wide open at the gem and the jeweler staring intently on it with a wide grin barely visible under his large beard.

The dwarf gingerly grabbed the jewel in his beefy hands and looked it over. He moved a stand with varying magnification lenses mounted to it. He examined the stone under a high scrutiny.

"So…what's it worth?"

After ten minutes of examining Thaelin's mouth watered at the appraisal. From under her hood, Hastur's ears twitched at the mention of the lump sum. By her calculations that would leave them out of debt and well fed by the end of winter.

"Excuse me, but could you say that again?" Hastur asked, wanting to hear the answer clearly to make sure she wasn't mishearing him.

"For this here gem, I'd give ya 600 gold for it." The dwarf said. His teeth shining like polished pearls.

Without missing a beat Thaelin un-looped a leather pouch from his belt to poured out a handful of more small ruby gemstones. Each of the stones were approximately the size of a peach pit. Finely cut multi-faceted stones shaped like cones, squares and ovals.

"And these. What about these?" the ranger asked, hopeful to hear another rich appraisal.

The two men exchanged the gemstones and the dwarf went back to work to examine the stones. This time he examined a chart resting on a low desk behind him. The dwarf took a piece of paper and began to scratch at it with a quill. the duo couldn't help but grin. From an un-fortuitous excursion, they will be greatly rewarded. Things were finally going well.

The dwardf pursed his bearded lips in thought "I'll give you...650 for them all."

Thaelin's eye twitched."What!?" he couldnt believe such nonsense. Admittingly he was bad at mathematics, but even he knew that amount was far less than what was mentioned for the stones. "Hold up, you said 600 for that boulder of a gem, and now you're saying that those other stones are just worth a measly 100 gold pieces?"

"Yes, indeed."

"That's bullshit!"

"Listen, human. I'm gonna try and tell ya this plainly. Its gonna cost me to have this big stone worked into sellable pieces. And when you bringing in a lot of other stones, the worth is gonna go down. Its economics. Because of you there isn't gonna be much of a demand for rubies now."

"Oh that's total shit. You're just screwing me over. I brought in three agates the other week and you only gave me 6 gold each." The man growled "You cheat!"

Hastur pulled her partner away and tried to keep the peace before the local guards are called in and things get out too far out of hand. "Thaelin, just take the 700."

"After that outburst, you're only getting 400 gold." Declared the jeweler crossing his arms in absolute

"That's it!" the ranger yelled grabbing for the clerk

From that point, the two exchanged insults in a low gargled language and both made vulgar gestures common in the Dwarven culture. As a final resort, Hastur had to use her warding to push her friend out of the shop and try to calm the situation while still bartering a better price for the gems.

With much successful deliberation and a hefty apology. Hastur was able to settle a deal on 450 gold for the treasure. Outside. She found Thaelin sitting on the shop steps pouting like a child.

"This sucks." He sighed

"At least we got enough to eat well these next few weeks." Declared Hastur trying to see the positive in their predicament.

"Yeah whatever." The man said said turning his head away from the mage. The ranger protruded his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

"Come on, stupid. Lets go. Maybe a bounty job can help cheer you up. Kill some goblins, maybe steal some gold?"

"Maybe." He said . "After this bullshit of a day, lets go kill some goblins."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Training

Notes of lavender and vanilla soon became a well known sign to Hastur Prynn. Every week she would make the climb up the spiral staircase of the Northern Ward to the Mother Superior's chamber. With every visit, the Matron Mother had a kettle of tea at the ready. The two would sit in their same seats next to the North window. The Half-elf would be given new tasks, report on her previous objectives, and then the two would lightly converse about the state of affairs within the Dutchy and the Monastery. It became routine. It was a pleasant routine. But after the first month and a half of acting as a courier for chapels, investigating sources of illness, and much of her usual duties she had done countless times before. Despite the prestige of her visits, the half elf was feeling a little cheated.

No longer rattling with anxiety, Hastur's tea cup rest perfectly poised in her hand. The warm taste of ginger and honey was very refreshing. "Ma'am? May I ask you something?" Hastur asked. Her core still cautious with reverence for the elder mage.

The old woman plucked a crisp cookie from a near by platter and nibbled on it savoring the sweet. "I believe you just did." She jested with a joyful smile

Hastur couldn't help but chuckle at the joke. Despite the crone's age and her station, she was still light hearted. "Ma'am. I have been your assistant for a month and a half now. A-"

The Matron rolled her eyes. That dreaded conversation had finally arrived. "And you're wondering why you haven't learned anything from me? If that it? No magic? No secrets from the Stars and what-not?"

The young cleric pursed her lips. She would have asked it less boldly, but that was going to be the gist of it.

"I _suppose_ this is a trope that all old masters must experience." The matron sighed. "My dear there is more to being a mage than mastering spells and harnessing the magical arts."

"Matron, I didn't-"

"Relax child. This may seem a shock to you, but I was young once. And in my youth, I've wanted to pursued powers to rival mages of ole. Why I once waited outside the chamber of my mentors for three days always berating them to teach me anything."

Hastur stumbled trying to apologize and clarify her intention.

"But…" she groaned brushing of a few cookie crumbs from her robes. The distinct popping of three joints sounded as she motioned to stand. "As a great scholar once said 'best way to learn is to get out of the library'. Come along, child." The Mother Superior beckoned her assistant to follow her.

Petrified at the developments, Hastur just sat in her seat. Eyes widened. Her tea cup still cradled in her hands. She thought she was dreaming. She didn't intend for it to develop like so. But here she was. She was actually going to learn from her teacher. Oghma surely had heard her prayers. The half elf followed suit. Her cloak fluttering behind her in an effort to keep up with the remarkably spry crone.

They descended the staircase and marched through the Monastery complex Hastur passed by her fellow clerics, priests, and monks alike. Each stopping their path to lower their heads in respect at the two. It was a surreal moment. But she still had no clue as to where she was being led. It wasn't to a library, that was for sure.

Sweat dripped down the Warrior's brow. Her muscles ached with strain. The axe blade pressed down towards the gap in her armor. Its broad head baying for the taste of blood. A stream of sparks flew from the axe blade grinding against the Warrior's sword. The smug man's grin seared into the Warrior's blue eyes. He was sure he would defeat the Warrior. With a sudden jolt of energy she pushed back the blade with her falchion. The man slid backwards. Nearly tripping over the body of his companion that lay motionless in the dirt.

The Warrior wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Their conflict lasted a good while. Four combatants lay defeated by her. Now only one was left. She used this time to regain her breathe. Feigning fatigue she used her sword to prop herself up. A tactic that was only half true. Her muscles felt the weight of her heavy armor weigh down onto her limbs. She tucked her locks of stark blue hair out of her sight.

The man looked over the warrior trying to find a weakness he could exploit. Gaps in her armor were being well defended with her sword. The plate armor was thick. Earlier in their fight it was clear to show she was tough. The prowess she displayed dispatching his comrades was unreal. But there was one ploy he could use. The summer heat was sweltering. And carrying armor like hers was becoming cumbersome. That gambeson underneath was starting to be drenched in sweat. Stalling could work. When she gets tired, he will finish it.

Her opponent let out a cry charging headfirst back into the conflict with the female warrior. He swung the axe high over his head. He left his core exposed. A lethal mistake. The Warrior smirked at the incoming man. Twirling her sword into a reverse grip, she ducked low under the man's swing and lunged the dragon headed pommel of her sword into the man's abdomen.

The sudden shock and jarring pain caused the man to drop his axe which fell behind him. Embedding itself into the dirt. The man hunched forward in an effort to curl into a ball as he fell.

The blue haired fury shot-up from under the man. Her head cracking against the man's chin. She then grabbed ahold of his waist and body slammed him to the ground. The combined weight of her, her armor, and the man's armor was enough to bruise a few ribs. Looming over her foe, she began to pelt him with a volley of kicks to the abdomen, back, and his ass.

"I yield! I yield!" he begged between the beatings.

Across the arena, a bald man called to the Warrior from the sidelines. "Alright Sergeant. I think the boy's had enough."

The blue haired warrior gave her one foe one more kick in the ass before turning to the other fallen. "And that concludes our sparring practice for the day." The four fallen bodies rolled to life. Each moaning from their injuries. "Deposit your arms and armor to the training room. And see a cleric if you have any wounds."

The Warrior's armor clanked with every step off the training grounds. She sheathed her falchion as she approached the Master at Arms. The bald man tossed the Warrior a towel. "Another successful training day, Sergeant?"

"These kids will get the hang of it…sooner or later." Her heartbeat slowed back to its resting beat. In the afternoon sun, wearing plate armor like hers was becoming increasingly strenuous. She couldn't wait to return to her quarters and enjoy a bath. Her armor pieces shined in the sunlight.

From the archway of the training grounds, two robed figures stood admiring the spectacle. One wearing a long black gown with a marigold veal draped around her head, and the other was a shorter figure in a faded yellow cloak.

The bald man raised a clenched fist and pounded it against his chest in a salute. "Matron Superior. You honor us with your presence."

The blue haired fighter spun on her heals and performed a similar salute.

Mother Illisa nodded at the gestures. "Sir Minot. I see you are busy with training more of your paladins to aid in defending the Hold."

The bald knight stood at attention as he spoke "Aye. Ma'am. The Militia shall always be ready to defend those in need."

"Indeed. Well in that case I'm in_ need_ of some assistance. Might I borrow the lady here for a moment?"

"Of course ma'am. Sergeant Harth." The man gestured to his subordinate next to him. He stepped aside and stood like a statue.

The Warrior's eyes burned with confidence. Despite the layers of dirt and sweat across her cheeks and her winded appearance. She was ready to conduct any laid before her "Your Holiness!" She declared. Pounding her fist even harder against the breastplate. "Sergeant Varris Harth at your command." The blue haired warrior lowered her head to display her respect.

The old woman nearly rolled her eyes at such pomp and circumstance. "Sergeant I would like for you to train my assistant here, Sister Prynn."

"As you wish, Mother Superior." Varris tossed her towel aside and marched to her previous spot in the arena.

Hastur's heart sunk.

The Mother Superior bowed farewell to the knights and turned back to her chamber.

The young cleric was petrified with fear. "Wait what?" she managed to say before working her feet to motion after the Matron. "Y-y-you cant be serious!? I'm supposed to fight her?"

"Yes. You are. 'The fires of combat forge the strongest steel'." Recited the crone "And you are to spar with the Sergeant until you can defeat her and when she says you are finished with the lesson. Now, as the actors say. Break a leg." The old woman then snapped her wrinkled bony fingers.

A faint aura of red light shined around the cleric's legs. Moving as if on their own, she forcibly walked stiff legged to the arena. The icy grasp of fear clutched Hastur's heart. After the spectacle she watched prior of the paladin taking down five trainees with such ease. This was going to be an uneasy fight.

Varris stood opposite side of the cleric. Gauging by the worried tears in the mage's eyes. "Are you ready?"

"No!"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Broken

There is no sensation quite like being punched in the face. It is truly unique to experience. There's that sudden jarring of impact, that moment of vague when everything slows down and your senses tries to compute what happened, and then that after feeling, there is that horrible wash of pain raining over you as blood gushes from any laceration that may have formed. And if you're lucky you can even hear the cracking sound of the cartilage breaking in your nose.

Hastur Prynn rested neatly on her back. She didn't care her hood wasn't on. She was too busy shaking in the shock of it all. At the moment of the impact, she was indeed lucky. She felt something pop and heard a crunch before everything became foggy. Her vision doubled. Fading in and out for a minute. She didn't see stars, but there were a few flashes of light for a second. When she could see a single object again, she saw her instructor. Standing over her like a vulture. Her blue hair blocking out the sun shining above her. Her armor gleaming. "Get up." commanded the Sergeant.

The half elf gazed above her. The world around her began to catch up. And when it did, she entered a world of pain. 'This wasn't training. This is torture.' Hastur thought.

"Get up!" yelled Varris the instructor grabbed the half elf by the arm and pulled her up.

Hastur staggered a bit. She widened her stance and glared at her teacher. "I-I think you broke my nose!" he said gingerly cupping her nose. She could feel warm liquid covering her hands

Varris circled the mage like a wolf and its injured prey. "So? Your legs aren't broken, so hit me!"

Enraged by this warrior's lack of compassion and blatant ruthlessness, Hastur curled her fist and threw a single punch towards the paladin. The sound her fist bade against the steel breastplate sounded like a low 'gong'. Hastur fell to her knees cradling her hand. The knuckles throbbed. The punch didn't even leave a dent. It only fuel Varris' ire.

The warrior grabbed the cleric by the shoulder and pulled to her feet. Varris gave Hastur a soft grin before the warrior pulled her into a punch to the stomach. The air escaped the mage's lungs.

'Where was the lesson? What did I do to deserve this?' she thought to herself. How could she fight an armored warrior. Especially this brick house of a woman. There was no way. Maybe if she just lay here in the dirt, the knight will go away.

Gasping for air she declared her surrender "N-no more!"

Warriors of this Monastery never give up!" roared the beast. Her armor clanked as she circled the cleric. Watching in disdain as the frail spellcaster was so easy to break.

Heading the instructors warning, Hastur crawled to her feet. She staggered a bit, but managed to find her balance. Blood began to drip from her crooked nose. She looked on at the paladin in stupor. Her foe stood a few good inches above her. Long blue hair fashioned to drape over her left side. On the right her head was shaved clean. The most disconcerting thing was her eyes. Shining like two blue sapphires. Icy cold and alluring.

"Now, draw your sword."

Hastur fidgeted trying to grab ahold of the hilt of her rapier with her uninjured hand. Her vision was starting to recover a bit. The little blade stumbled out of the sheathe. Grasping the blade in her left hand was awkward. The hilt felt like a shoe placed on the opposite shoe.

"Strike me."

The mage hesitated. Surely this was a trick. She wasn't going to fall for something like that. It was most likely going to lead to her getting punched in the face a second time. Her mind raced with thoughts that this must have been punishment for her remark.

"I swear to you I wont leave this spot. Now strike me, coward!"

The half elf raised her sword and started to pace forward. With every step she gained a bit more speed. Hastur aimed the point of her sword into the gap in her armor around the warrior's left armpit.

Their swords met with 'tink' sound. The paladin performed a pirouette to move behind the cleric. And with her gauntlet clad fist she threw a single punch into the mage's side.

Hastur cried from the burning sensation. She dropped her rapier into the dusty earth. She collapsed next to it. Tears began to well in her eyes. 'How could Mother Illisa be so cruel' she thought.

"Oghma help me." Hastur managed to squeak in her pain. "Make it stop." She begged

Her eyes flashed open and she saw her tormenter looming over head. A cold and merciless expression of disappointment burned in her eyes.

"Get up."

Hastur writhed in pain..

"Get up!" Varris yelled again before kicking the mage in the ass.

The steel toed strike shot through to her core. 'no more' she thought. 'I can't take this' Hastur looked for her sword. It was only an arm's reach away. as she grabbed ahold of the hilt, a steel plated boot pinned the blade to the ground. Varris raised her other foot high. The cleric curled into a ball. 'I'm going to die'

*Crack*

The half elf laid in the dirt. Still bracing herself for the incoming hit. She didn't feel any new sense of pain. That's what worried her. The mage peeked one eye open and found herself still very much alive. She raised her sword but found that it weighed much less than she remembered. With one stomp, the thin bladed sword snapped in two. From the hilt, barely eight inches of blade remained.

Tears welled in her eyes

Varris continued to circle the damaged mage. The instructor's scowl intensified. "Pathetic." The instructor sneered before walking off "Were done for today." Next to the ring, Varris halted two trainees from walking into the arena "Leave her. She's a cleric. She can heal herself." The woman said to the attendants.

For what felt like hours, Hastur lay motionless in the dirt of the Militia's training grounds. Ever grateful that the torture was over, but at what cost. Her spirit, her body, and her sword were broken.

After letting out her anguish in a much needed cry, she found enough motivation to cast a spell. Her right hand was stiff to uncurl. But she managed to work through the pain to open it enough to where it could fulfill her task. Burying her face in her hands she recited the incantation to heal her broken face. Slowly the pain subsided. The cartilage in her nose cracked back into place, but she soon had a new type of pain hurting her. This time in her chest. It was a new feeling she had never known. Failure.

Closer to dusk, the cleric collected her broken sword and managed to limp home. Her shirt still blotched in her blood. Explaining this was going to be impossible to her roommate. Thaelin sat at the dining table. Counting out the contents of his coinpurse. Four stacks of silver coins towered around a small pile of copper coins yet to be counted. Another few bounty missions and he should have enough to make rent for the next month.

The click of the door latched caught him off guard. Usually he could hear his roommate's footsteps. This time he could barely hear them.

"Took ya long enough." He said with a smirk, not taking his eyes off his counting

The mage shuffled inside without a word. Her hood still covering her head. She motioned towards her makeshift alchemy lab. Uncorked a vial and downed a small red colored potion. She turned to her bed and collapsed. Never saying a word.

Thaelin scratched at his beard. "So…I got a hunting trip tomorrow in Kessier. Wanna go with?"

A muffled grunt was the only answer he received.

The man scooped the coins into the pouch. "Hastur? You okay?"

Hastur rotated her head enough to where she could speak clearly. "I'm…fine."

.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Praetorian

The water wheel of the logging mill continued to turn with the rush of the river's current. The mill camp was silent save for the creaking gears in the mill and the insistent croaking of dozens of black-eyed crows perched atop the peaked roofs of the camp. This was Kessier Forest. Tall dense oak trees reached into the sky. Approximately twenty feet high with wide blooming foliage that shaded all underneath.

Along the tree line of the camp, shattered timbers were strewn about the area. Timbers roughly two feet wide were felled in to splintered heaps. The silence within the camp was deafening. It was accompanied by a cold chill in the air.

The land reeked of death.

A pair of boots sunk into the ground blackened with blood. A cloth covering tried its best to keep the nauseous smell of decay from taking the ranger. One of the many bodies he investigated was a sight to behold: A woman, maybe a few years younger than the ranger; she was pretty; her blonde hair stained with her blood; a piece of splintered wood had impaled his stomach. Her flesh was cold and started to blue. A silent scream was etched onto her mangled body. Maggot larvae had not yet hardened into pupa.

Next to her was the remains of a man. His shirt dyed dark with his blood. He was missing his arm, all the way up to the shoulder. There were a dozen teeth marks from where the beast must have tried the first bite off the shank of meat. In the ranger's experience. He could tell that the arm must have been bitten a second time down the forearm, then ripped off. An excruciating thing to be sure. His wail was still seen in his eyes. He would have died of blood loss before a healer could have gotten to him.

"Bite marks suggests a jaw maybe four or six inches wide." He said disgusted by the mess of a man's torn bit of arm. "Pop quiz. What do you think did this, Hast?"

Not far away, Hastur stood looking over the massacre. Her face still tender from the 'training' the previous day. Her eyes shut, hands raised, and lips muttering the final rites and prayers for the dead. When she opened her green eyes, she paced towards what remained of a campsite.

"It wasn't a bear, that's for sure." The mage looked at the cold remains of a now pit with charred bits of wood. Once this was a campfire. Ants congregated around overturned skillets "They were making dinner when the attack happened."

"Very good. That tells us _this,_" he said stepping away from one of the corpses "happened at night."

The hooded mage approached a near-by tree. One long claw mark scratched against the oak bark. She traced her finger along the marking. She retracted her hand with a shutter. Her mind and body still reeled with the outcome of her 'training' the previous day. A day away from that blue haired brute was a blessing.

The man stepped over two other bodies before starting to examine their possessions. He found a broken sword or two, a half-finished wood carving of an oxen, and a dozen good sized knives. There was one thing that discouraged the man. He couldn't find any coins. Not a penny nor even a piece of jewelry.

In a depression in the earth he found an odd thing. A severed hand. Possibly from the man without the arm. It was even missing its ring finger. This made no sense. Several bodies laid about. Chewed on, maimed, and missing any bit of jewelry. If he didn't know better he would have thought it to be bandits that ransacked the area before they arrived. Yet no signs of a fight from the lumberjacks. Puzzled by this, he swung his head on a swivel. It was only by the grace of his craft as a ranger that he could hear the final piece of the puzzle.

The murder of crows watching them cackled before taking flight. Their cries made Hastur jump. Her gaze was still transfixed onto the clawed tree.

"Hastur!" the man bolted towards his friend.

The mage looked on as her partner rushed to her side. Before he was ten feet away, her tapered ears flinched. Something else was coming. It sounded like a tornado. The forest came alive with a breeze. The tall trees swayed in the rising gale. And the air around her dropped to the point she could see her breath. Looking to the clouds, she could faintly see it. In a blur of white a toothy maw of a white and grey scaled beast descending towards her.

The ranger grabbed ahold of the mage and tackled her to take refuge under a broken tree stump. The white winged beast narrowly missed the two with its talons. It crashed into the remains of the devastated camp. The beast let out a hiss and than a croaking roar.

"Is that a fucking dragon!?" Yelled Hastur lifting her head from the dirt.

Thaelin didn't look back to see for himself. His fight or flight reflexes kicked in.

"Move! To the tree line!"

Crawling on their bellies the duo rushed and each hid behind a tree large enough to hide their outlines. Hastur tore her hood off her head. Her breathing was hard and panicked.

"What's a dragon doing here?"

"Whatever it wants, I guess." Retorted the ranger.

A jet of ice blew between their trees. The icy blast roared between them like a dozen horses galloping past. Hastur let out a terrified scream. Around the targeted area, the temperature dropped harshly. She could see a latticework of frost creep around her cover. Her fingertips and tapered ears become started to feel numb from the cold.

"We're going to die!" Cried the elf, tucking her head into her each puff she could see her breath.

When the blast of ice subsided. Thaelin drew out his pistol crossbow. "I'm not sure it's even a dragon to be honest. I think it's either a drake or a wyvern."

Hastur shut her eyes, deep in prayer. Her lips repeating the words "Oghma help me! I don't wanna die!"

The ranger poked his head from the edge of the tree to catch a glimpse of the dracolizard. Its frame was smaller than the average adult dragon. Its grey scales were more pointed than the typical round ends. Its front limbs had a white leathery patagium membrane. Each wing had a curved talon. To act as a 'finger'. By a rough guess he would say that the beast was about six or seven feet long from the tip of its triangular head, to its spade shaped tail.

The beast picked at a few of the bodies. Tearing off human limbs into smaller easier to digest chunks. The curved talons on its wings sunk into the dead flesh and sliced the torsos to shreds.

Satisfied with his observation, the man looked back at the his partner who was shaking to the core. Terror was etched on her face. Just like on the loggers before they were killed. Her hands were gripped the edges of her cloak.

"I got good news, bad news, and better news." He whispered with a chuckle. Any chance to lessen the direness of their situation would be needed.

Hastur didn't respond, she just stared at the man. Her green eyes ached with fear.

"Good news is: it's a drake."

"H-how is that g-good news?" she managed to say. Her eyes starting to tear up "Were going to die anyway!"

"It means we have a chance to kill this thing." The man slid his short sword out of its scabbard, trying not to make much noise. "Bad news is, that the thing is an Ice Drake. Its scales are pretty damn hard. So my crossbow will be near useless."

"Oh great." She put with a sarcastic laugh "And what in the Hells is the better news?"

"I have a plan. Stay here."

The ranger drew out his crossbow with a flourish. He let out a sigh before bolting from his cover. Ducking from tree to tree the man tried to put enough distance from Hastur and the drake.

"Hey Frosty! Over here!"

The drake's serpent like neck twisted towards the man. It used its powerful hind legs to leap towards the ranger. Crawling like a bat, it used its front winged limbs to dig into the earth and help propel itself forward. It hissed and brandished its fangs with every step.

Vaulting over downed trees, the man led the beast towards the river. He would take a few moments to circle back on the drake so he could use his sword to stab and slash at the beast's tough hide. He would try to parry a swipe from the curved talons and continue on with the chase. Hastur watched on in fearful awe. She watched the man hack at the beast, then run. His tactic of hit and run strikes worked fairly, but he was still out of his league against the drake. She needed to help him. She picked up a nearby stone and charged towards the beast.

"Over here, lizard!" she yelled throwing the rock. It flew through the air and pounded off the draconid's neck. It made a low thud as it bounced off the heavy scales. The beast's black eyes held a cruel soulless light. Hastur felt a primal animal-like aura around the drake. There was only going to be one way out of this. And that involved death.

The drake outstretched a massive pair of white leathery wings. In the right light, veins and blood vessels could be seen between its 'fingers'. With just a few bates of it's wings, chilling winds struck the mage. Hastur's cloak flapped wildly in the gale. She fell to her stomach and covered her head. The ground under her became cold and stiff. Her skin burned in the chill. Her hands felt numb and blue.

Thaelin let loose a bolt aimed at the drakes head. It plinked off the nape of its neck, but managed to catch the draconid's attention. He lead the beast away and continued on with his strike and run attempts.

Hastur's body convulsed in bone rattling shivers. Her auburn hair held flaked of frost. Her skin was even paler than normal. Her cloak covering her body, that protected most of her, was frozen stiff. She looked on at the chase. Nothing was working.

"We're going to die!"

Ducking under a splintered log, Thaelin halted his chase in an effort to hide. He came face to face with a lifeless stare. The glazed over eyes of a dead woman glared through to the man's core. Dried blood covered the area around an opening in her neck. Thaelin gasped before trying to keep his composure. His heart pounded like a drum. Looking back he could see a large shadow creeping over him. Thaelin gripped his sword tight. His hands creaking against the leather wrapped hilt.

Overhead the long necked drake hissed in search of its next meal. Its grey and white scales clattered with every turn of the serpentine neck. It loomed its head over the man's hiding place. It looked down and found a single leg hiding underneath some foliage. It grinned as it opened its fanged jaws. A dozen razor sharp teeth chomped into the human's thigh. Thick blood squirted out. The drake dragged its prey out from the grass. Next it tore into the abdomen of the dead woman's blue dress. Shredding the cloth to ribbons.

With his free hand, Thaelin grabbed the coin around his neck. He thanked his luck that he escaped a painful death. He slowly creeped out from under the foliage towards the feasting drake. It payed no mind to the incoming man. It was occupied savoring its meal. With two hands, the ranger thrusted his blade into the lizard's flank. It let out a sharp croaking roar as Thaelin wrenched the blade free.

Once more, the Ice Drake unfurled its massive wings. But this time it didnt unleash a chilling torrent. It beat its wings and lifted itself off the forest floor. The duo watched on as the beast flapped its bat like wings higher and higher into the air.

"Hastur! Pull that thing out of the sky!" yelled the man.

The mage shook as she crawled to her feet. Still chilled to the bone by the ice winds. Her shivering head looked up at the fleeing drake. This was her chance. Perhaps they will win this fight after all.

Hastur widened her stance and recited her spell. Her hands glowed intensely with blue light. From her waist she threw her hands upwards to the sky. Eyes locked onto the drake. Springing from the ground, two aethereal chains shot forth towards the drake. The mage tried to keep her focus "You're not going anywhere, you bastard!"

The clattering chains of light wrapped themselves around the drake's hind legs. The beast struggled to move. Its wings flapped on, making the bindings become taught.

With a single tug, Hastur yanked her glowing hands down. Commanding the bindings to reel in her catch. The lizard began to fall like a stone. It hissed and screeched the closer the it got to the earth. The drake gave a croaking squawk before it struck the earth. A plume of dirt and splinters rose into a cloud. The blue light of the cleric's hands shimmered before fading away.

A dark silhouette of the drake emerged through the dust. Its toothy jaws screeched before outstretching its wings again. Through the settling debris plume, it revealed many large holes between its fingers. It flapped its wings but couldn't manage to lift itself. It let out a screech in anger. Its black eyes locked onto Hastur. It would get its revenge for that.

The giant lizard tore after the mage, scrambling over fallen timbers, and snapping its jaws towards the woman.

"Thaelin!" She yelled

A crossbow bolt struck the beast in the flank, but the bolt bounced off the grey scales. The man reloaded and fired again. The second bolt plinked against the drake's head. This time it caught its attention. "Come here bitch!"

The monster raised its long tail and swatted it against the man, sending him flying against a tree. The force was enough to knock the wind out of the ranger Thaelin. He fell face first into a growth of ferns. He let out a sarcastic "Ouch." before losing his strength to go on with the fight.

The predator and the prey looked at each other. Locked into a slight game of wits. One, a ferocious beast of lore. The second a mage of great skill in the arts of defense. Hastur backed away slowly. With enough distance from the ice drake, the better her odds of her survival were. Her mind raced trying to think of her next move. She assessed the condition of the drake, her ability to cast another spell, and if she had a chance to fight back.

The mage unsheathed her rapier. Her confidence was dashed when she remembered the blade was broken. It was just as useless as she was.

"I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die!" she said under her breath.

The drake swayed its long neck back and forth. Sizing up its foe. From the talons on its hind legs,to the fork pointed horns on its crest. It stood a good six feet tall. Dwarfing the mage with its stocky frame. The smell of elf was a new scent to it. But it still smelled sweet and savory to it all the same. It hissed and barred its curved fangs at the half elf.

In their deadlock, the silence of the land was ominous. The pattering of the river was the only ambient sound. That and the creaking turn of the lumber mill's paddle wheel. The drake's heavy breathing was like a drum, compared to the panting of the scared mage.

Hastur's eyes brightened. 'I'm NOT going to die!'

Like a scared rabbit, she bolted. Vaulting over logs and bodies alike. She made her way towards the mill. Only 60 or so feet away. She could do it. She had to.

The drake snaked its head back. It took in a deep breath and bellowed out a blizzard of ice and flurrying snow towards the fleeing mage. Once more, Hastur could see her chilling breath. Behind her another jet of ice was being blown her way. The foliage behind her became coated in white. It became brittle to the touch. And shattered like glass at the slightest touch. The beast croaked at her as it gave chase. Ice breath fading from its throat.

The mage's destination was in reach. He hopped on top of hewn logs. Some cut into rough planks, others still waiting to be refined. The cut timbers wabbled underfoot. She outstretched her arms in order to keep her balance. From one cut timber to another, she crawled her self up onto the laneway of the sawmill. The large toothed saw blade was still in motion. Tearing through invisible logs. The drake was still on her trail.

The beast's pointed head followed through the opening in near the pile of cut planks. The curved claws on its wings dug deep into the frame of the mill. It pulled itself into the laneway with enough force the support beams creaked. Sliding by the saw blade, the drake slowly advanced.

The predator had its prey trapped. The narrow building was suffocating. There was no place to run. Death was the only outcome for their foe. Their eyes met. Each looked on in confidence. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The drake hissed to displayed its fangs. Hastur cracked her knuckles.

The mage focused her power into her barrier. The light blue shield clashed against the intensely frigid jet of ice. She pushed on. Gaining a single step was her only goal. The drake began to retreat backwards into the lane. The saw still rocking up and down with every turn of the wheel.

Another step forward for the mage, another step backwards for the drake. In a last ditched attempt, the wyrm tried to escape by crawling over the rim of the light barrier. With her free hand, Hastur unsheathed her broken sword and stabbed at the drake's snapping maw and claws. With every stab, she let out a terrified and confident scream. The drake used its mighty head as a club to attempt to break through the barrier.

Flashes of Hastur's sparring match shown before her eyes. That blue haired warrior snarling at her as she would cock her arm back before the strike. She could faintly feel the ache of her nose becoming broken again.

"NO!" the half elf yelled

A rush of strength flowed through her. Powering her slender frame to push on.

"Die you bitch!"

She let out a primal scream and gave one final push with the barrier.

Losing its grip against the magic shield, the drake fell backwards into the saw blade. The jagged steel teeth ripped through the scaled defense of the drake. It unleashed a pain filled squawk and roar as the serrated blade continued its path. A shower of bright red blood spewed from the opening wound. The deck of the mill lane became drenched in it. Its arteries showered the blue barrier in a film of blood and chunks of bone and cartilage.

Hastur continued the spell. She pushed her spectral shield on until the pain filled growls turned into a gurgles and then to the lull of the rotating gears and the lapping of the water pushing the large wooden wheel.

Once the beast was in two, a wave of relief filled the mage. She released her concentration on the spell. Making the barrier fizzle into thin air. The film of blood that covered her magic shield splashed into the deck of the mill lane.

Her breathing was a hard pant. Her limb felt heavy but she did it. There before her was a large Ice Drake. Dead and cleaved in two. Dead by her hand.

She cautiously approached the beast. Still thinking the beast would somehow still trying to get her. Scattered into the mix of blood and entrails, were discarded scales. Hastur picked one up and traced the rough bumpy texture of the grey stone like piece of armor. On the other side it held a beautiful array of colors. Like the mother of pearl.

"Holy fucking shit!" Came a voice from behind her. Hastur nearly jumped out of her skin. She posed with her broken sword, ready to stab and prod any foe that gets close to her.

Leaning against a support beam, Thaelin stood. Exhausted, sore, and utterly amazed at the sight before him. "Way to go Hast!"

The little half elf was speechless "I-I…"

"Yeah, you! You killed a fucking drake! That's impressive as all hell!"

The ranger approached the drake, eager to inspect it. Close to where the massive laceration was, he saw something that peaked his interest. The pinkish outline of a stomach. He pulled out his bollock dagger and began to dissect the drake.

"Now, if my hunch is correct…" he said slicing into the fleshy pouch. "when the blade managed to make its way through, a heinous stench secreted from the opening. The odor was enough to make Hastur gag "then here we should find…bingo!"

The ranger gave a yank to the stomach and pulled it free from the carcass. From the dissecting cut, he poured out the contents of the drake's stomach: a half digested arm, a finger with a ring attached to it, enzyme coated leather coin purses, and a slimy silver necklace.

"Drakes are a primitive cousin to dragons." He explained. "Dragons hoard treasure because they see wealth as a form of power. Drakes and a few other dracanoids are drawn to treasure like magpies. They see something shiny and they have to have it."

Thaelin gave Hastur a pat on the shoulder. "If we can chop off the head and take it back to Hayak, we make a fortune from selling it to an alchemy shop."

The cleric rolled her eyes at the remark. "Knock yourself out. There's no we. I'm going back home before another one of those things comes here."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Mistakes.

Day after day, Hastur found herself migrating towards the training grounds with regret. 'Another day, another beating' she would recite. The first painful week went by in agony.

Her instructor, Sergeant Varris Harth of the Militia reprimanded her in a painful fashion after the mage decided to go hunting a drake with her partner. The bruises of that lesson took longer to heal than most. Since then, she learned never to skip a training session.

Hastur stood at attention. Head up. Eyes forward. Hands at her side in a fist. Back erect. Any divergence from this resulted in a stern reprimand. In the training grounds, the cleric was treated no different than any of the other soldiers within the ranks of the Militia. She was insulted, directed, and even referred to as 'cadet' by fellow warriors of the faith.

Varris' armor clanked as the instructor paced around her protege. "Do not think for a second, Cadet, that you are special. It makes no difference that you are an elf, a woman, or the Matron Superior's ward. You are just like anyone else in the practice yard. You are worthless. You are nothing. You shall be treated no differently than any other recruit that takes up the shield. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

Varris' spiteful eyes locked onto the mage. The six foot tall, armored warrior got in her face and yelled. Spit splashing against Hastur's cheek.

"What did you say to me, Cadet?"

"Yes! I understand!"

The warrior cocked back her plated arm and slapped the half elf. Hastur's head felt like it was taken clean off her shoulders by the strike. She collapsed to the dirt like a dropped sack of rocks. Gingerly caressing her cheek, she saw the blue haired woman tower over her. Eyes cold and merciless.

"Get up!"

After a hesitation, an iron bound hand reached down and gripped tightly around the mage's neck. The edges of the steel plates on the instructor's gauntlet fingers dug into her throat. The vise like grasp restrained the half elf's breathing. In one even, unrestrained jerk, the sergeant pulled Hastur to her feet with one hand. Varris then lifted her slightly more to where she was about an inch off the ground. Right when her throat was starting to burn, the sergeant released her.

The feeling of that choking grasp stayed with her long after the sergeant released her. Hastur panicked thinking what Mother Illisa had gotten her into.

"When you speak to me, Cadet. You call me Sergeant. Understand?"

"Y-yes…s-sergeant."

Treatment like this became the norm. Hastur found herself in a new routine: arrive in the morning to begin her duties in the infirmary, start her training around noon, be carried herself to the infirmary as a patient, gulp down a healing potion, recover, then limp home.

Since her rapier was broken, she was forced to spar with a training sword the paladins would use. It was a bulky thing. A hand-and-a-half longsword. The blade had a blunted edge so it couldn't seriously hurt anyone. It couldn't cleave off a limb by any means, but a direct hit from the edge would certainly break a bone. But it was cumbersome. Extremely heavy in the mage's hand. It took a lot of maneuvering just to raise it to parry an incoming sword strike or swing to attack.

Ever the scholar, she would often be the first one to arrive in the arena. Her instructor, a fearsome paladin that was considered a fury among her comrades. Hastur would use her time to try and formulate a plan. Predetermine her attack patterns for the day based off her past failures against the teacher.

Every time her teacher would enter the training grounds, Hastur's anxiety skyrocketed. Her limbs already ached from a prelude of her incoming pain. A paladin's armor often served as the drums of war. Its clanking metal pieces would herald their approach. Varris would stride in with an entourage of assistants to help her during her lessons. Never the same two acolytes. Their job was to watch, learn from Hastur's mistakes, and help bring the cleric to the infirmary if needed.

A battle scarred iron blade bayed down towards the mage's face. Hastur threw her free hand on the blade of her training sword to try and gain a little leverage to repel the instructor's attack. Varris smirked at the tactic. The blue haired paladin eased off her tactic, flourished her falchion in the air over the mage's head, than went to slap the mage with the wide forte of her sword in the back of the head.

Hastur swung the bulky longsword upwards to deflect the slap. She tumbled to her right where she could regroup. Elven graces allowed her to be light on her feet. Much more agile than the brute she was sparring with. In all her training sessions she strived to find any weak spot in Varris' armor., a blue quilted gambeson safeguarded any gaps in her armor. Her arms, and legs and front was protected in thick steel breastplate, vambraces, spaulders, and shin guard coverings. She never wore a helmet. Making all strikes expected to target there.

Hastur pirouetted behind the instructor, and aimed her next attack for the back of the knee. Compared with the rest of the sergeant's armor, the legs were the least protected. With Hastur's eyes locked onto the back of her leg, she went for the strike. A strong swipe there would surely cripple the knight and make her much easier to defeat.

Hearing the scuffle of boots against the dirt. Varris pivoted around on the balls of her feet to an about face. Before Hastur could react, the mage's sword was caught between the interlocking layers of steel plates and her sword.

A strong jab towards the half elf's stomach sent her sliding backwards. Haster gasped as she landed ass first into the dust. Varris swung her falchion up and rested it between her neck and shoulder.

"You need to widen your stance. That way you wont get knocked down as much." Smirked the instructor.

The half elf crawled to her feet, brushing off the dirt. "If I stand any wider, I'll be doing the splits."

The sergeant furled her brow "Listen Cadet, it's been weeks now and you haven't learned a damn thing. I'm not going to have my reputation nor my rank be tarnished by your denseness."

The jab at her intellect was a prime move to spark the mage's temper. "What lessons huh? How best to fall into the dirt?"

"Watch your tone, Cadet." Growled the blue haired warrior. She looked down at the mage, her eyes were burning like a fire. Perhaps this was the push she needed. "I guess a simpleton like yourself learns best from watching."

Hastur's hand crackled into a fist. She wanted to charge at the instructor, but realized how futile it would be.

Varris backed away. Disappointed at the inaction and called to her assistants for the day. "Greggor! Wills! Over here Now!"

A curly red haired Halfling, and a blonde haired man with a dirty blonde beard down to the rim of his chestplate picked up their weapons and hustled off to the Sergeant.

"Aye ma'am?" the halfling saluted pounding his little fist against the chestplate. The sight of a little fighter wearing such heavy armor was comical to the half elf.

"The Cadet can't seem to understand what it means to fight. I want you two to give her a demonstration."

"Aye ma'am."

The girls exited the arena. The halfling and human squared up. The Halfling armed with a short sword and his opponent armed with an axe and a shield. The human pounded his axe against the face of his shield, sounding it like a drum. The halfling twirled his sword around him in a flurry. They waited for the signal to begin.

Leaning her back against the fence to the training yard, Varris crossed her arms. Her armor clanked with every little movement. "So. Who do you think is going to win?"

Hastur wiped the sweat from her brow. "The human. He's taller and he has a shield. He's too well defended."

"Well, lets see...BEGIN!"

The halfling pranced around the arena. His feet shuffling around. Bobbing his body left and right. Making himself hard to aim at. "Oi! Ya overgrown lummox! Hit me iffn yer man enuff."

The two exchanged a few quick slashes at each other. The Halfling proved rather light on his feet compared to the man. As muscular as the blonde was, he still looked to be able to gain the upper hand.

With a joyous cackle, the Halfling began a rather unorthodox tactic. Holding his longsword in a high guard, he unscrewed his pommel from the longsword and then chucked it at the man's head. Across the arena Hastur could hear the small piece of metal thud against the man's head. From its point of contact, the pommel piece bounced off and back into the little man's hand, where he secured it back into place.

The blonde man felt a bit of pressure building from where the pommel struck him. Annoyed by the maneuver, the man let out a grunt as he swung the axe down at the Halfling. The little fighter. Smacked the incoming blade aside. Using his small stature, he used his free hand he swung an uppercut into the knot of his opponent. The human dropped his weapons and fell into the dirt. Crying in pain. Clutching his nether regions. The halfling placed a foot on top of the human's back. Posing like a victorious hero against a mighty foe.

Hastur stood dumbfounded at what she just watched. Next to her, Varris let out a hardy laugh and applauded the halfling. This was the first time Hastur had ever seen any Militia member laugh.

"Well done Greggor. Help Wills off the field. And get him an ice pack. He'll need it."

The halfling saluted once more before pulling the man to his feet. "Quit yer bellyaching. You'll be fine, mate."

"Lucky shot." Squeaked the man.

Varris walked back to the center of the arena and patted the blonde on the back as he limped away.

"Now then." Varris' face returning to the cold and stern expressionless look. "Lets see what you learned."

"What? Hastur griped "I didn't learn anything! I just watched a guy get kicked in the balls. That's not a lesson."

"You saw a fighter adapt to his scenario, and he overcame his odds. Now do as you learned."

Hastur's hoisted the bulky sword up. She kept a slight distance and thought back at the small match she witnessed. Doing as the Halfling did, she twisted at the pommel of her sword. The knurled pommel piece in the shape of a smooth disk soon became loose. She held the piece in her hand and tossed it like a skipping stone at Varris.

The Paladin swatted the hunk of metal away before marching after the terrified cleric. Now without the pommel piece, the sword began to wobble in in her hand loosely. Gripping the loose sword with both hands she lugged the heavy blade upwards, but with the rising swing, the blade flew out of the hilt and landed behind her. Hastur's core went cold.

"Oh shit!"

She braced herself for the incoming strikes. But when her instructor came in for a gauntlet clad punch, Hastur brought her leg up, and kicked her betwixt the legs. Varris faltered back a bit, but this only fueled the teacher's wrath. The instructor grabbed the recruit by the collar of her shirt and clasp of her cloak. One punch was all that was needed to send the cadet into a blacked-out state.

When she woke up, she was on the receiving end of a healer's table. Her vision blurred. Face hurting more than expected. After a hit like that, a headache was sure to come. The slightest movement resulted in her body aching all over.

A sarcastic feminine voice greeted her awake. "Wow, Hastur. You look terrible."

The mage squinted her eyes, struggling to see who was her physician.

"I hate my life." grumbled the half elf. She worked through the pain for a chance to raise her hand rub her head. When she moved her hand closer to her face, her eye right socket stung horribly.

"What happened?" the mage hissed

The physician hummed to herself. "Well, you somehow got mixed into fighting a paladin, and you got royally beaten." the healer handed the mage a thin handled object. "That girl with the blue hair also gave you a black eye." she added

"WHAT!?" Hastur flashed her eyes open and looked into the mirror. Sure enough there it was. Her right eye was swollen. Eye lid starting to turn blue and a shade of purple "What in the Hells, Shae? Why didn't you fix this?!"

Shae pursed her lips. And gave her friend an uneasy shrug. "That psycho came in here and said not to. Even told me to mix a potion to counteract your spells."

This revelation grasped Hastur's heart. She opened her hands and tried to produce something. Her fingertips glowed for a second before they flickered out.

"What did you do Shae!? I thought you were my friend!" the mage shook with anger at the betrayal.

The second healer gave the half elf a gentle hug. I'm so sorry Hastur. The potion will wear off by midnight. That crazy _bitch_-" she whispered around the profound word "-said that the mark was to teach you a lesson. What did you do?"

Hastur's face turned a strange mixture of colors. Her face went red from embarrassment and the area around her bruises went to a darker purple.

"I…I kicked her."

Shae let out a bellyful laugh when she went on to explain exactly how she kicked some of the dumbest thing she's heard her friend do, this was one of the top tier stupid

Once she regained her strength the old fashioned way, Hastur's walk back home was arduous. She would replay the session in her head. Learn where she failed and thought about where she could improve. Only, she was running out of options. Attempt after attempt was made. But nothing. No small victory. Nothing except having her instructor yell and belittle her. Questioning her mentality constantly. It was painful. Both physically, and emotionally.

In the times of her training, Hastur became paranoid as she thought about it her matches. The slightest thing in the corner of her eye gave her flashes of another beating. Every time a pigeon flew by she would flinch. Raising her hands to defend herself from an invisible attacker. Walking on the streets was increasingly stressful. Footsteps of others was increasingly so. The pace of others made her think of a surprise attack. Someone trying to blind side her.

As she walked and meditated on her failure of the day. Something caught her off guard. Heavy footsteps following her. She was sure it was following her. Every corner she made. The footsteps followed. The mage became anxious. Another mugger? A thief? In her desperation, Hastur focused a spell into her hand. That sickly green light surrounded her palm.

The stranger placed a hand on Hastur's shoulder. The mage opened her hand and prepared for a slap. One touch is all that's needed.

Before the spell could make contact a second hand grabbed ahold of the mage's wrist. The light faded with a fizzle and Hastur stood with tears welling in her black and blue eyes. Her paranoia almost cost her dearly.

"Hey Hast. Wanna grab a drink?"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Friends?

Outside their window, in the distance the clock tower struck four times. The sun sat halfway between its zenith and towards the western horizon. In another hour or so Hastur would return home from the Monastery. And in that time Thaelin had to find some answers. Everyday when she got back from the Monastery, the mage wouldn't talk to him. Their interactions were becoming scarce. She didn't assist him on bounty hunting anymore. First thing she would do is change her clothes, drink down a potion she would make, and then sleep for the rest of the day.

Thealin paced around the boarding room. He rested a hand on the hilt of his bollock dagger. He scratched at his beard in thought.

"There has got to be something wrong." He said to himself leaning over the dining table. He looked over at Hastur's side of the room. It was neat and in clean order.

With an anxious sigh, he took a step towards her side. This marked the first time in the two years of their partnership that he would barge into her affairs. For a week or so he noticed some strange goings on with his roommate. She had become distant. More quiet. And she had been making a surplus of strange potions late into the night.

Thaelin began his investigation with the most unusual sight. Hastur's rapier. It was left hanging from its peg by the doorway. She would never part with it. That blade always stayed strapped to her belt. So why now? Why is it here? He looked over the fine blade. The hilt had a dull yellowed brass guard. A twisted guard protected the weilder's knuckles. As he held the sheathe, he noticed a slight rattle coming from it. Upon pulling out the sword, he found it to be broken in half. Whatever had done this was strong. No chips close to the fracture, so it didn't break under strain of combat. It was a clean break.

Something was indeed wrong.

Around her bed. It was neatly made like always. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The ranger pilfered through the improvised alchemy laboratory. The vials and flasks all looked to be filled with the same elixir. It was a thick and red syrup. Sweet smelling. He dabbed a finger into the concoction to taste it. It was bitter. But from this he deduced that the mixtures she had been stockpiling were to healing potions.

At first glance Thaelin thought that to be simple fatigue. She had worked a few shifts before where her energy would be stricken from healing patients all day. But now that she's drinking them more frequently.

Next he looked around her changing screen. There was a wicker hamper tucked into the corner filled with a few of her worn shirts. Each one like the rest. White in color. Long sleeves with ruffled cuffs. Common place for a lady. Along the collars and on the sleeves there was a few signs that didn't bode well for the man. Tan colored dirt stains and dried blood. Obvious signs of conflict.

He pursed his lips and contemplated on the signs before him "A broken sword, bloodied clothes, and over usage of potions…Hastur what happened to you?"

The bounty hunter pictured out the causes for the signs. And when he came to his conclusion, his blood began to boil. The man grabbed his sword belt for he knew he was going to be using it. Very soon.

"A broken weapon so she couldn't defend herself, healing potions to cover up her injuries, and becoming withdrawn. Hast, when I find who hurt you I'm going to fucking kill them!"

Hastur had never really talked about her problems before and he'd always respected the mage's privacy. But this…this was something he had to get involved with.

On his way out the door, the bells rang five. She was bound to come home soon. The ranger should be able to track her on her way before she leaves the monastery. Perhaps he could catch the bastard that hurt her.

The man took up a vantage point across from the Monastery gates. He leaned against the wall of a nearby mercantile. He used the shade of the setting sun to conceal him slightly. Not long after he took up his position, he saw her. That short little frame hiding under that unmistakable yellow hood. It looked ridiculous on her, but he didn't argue.

He watched her stroll by. Taking no notice of him. She looked to be deep in thought. But there was something wrong. She was limping. Her left foot supporting her weight. He was too late.

With the clues in hand and now this new observation, his conclusion was concrete. Someone was hurting her.

Thaelin's jaw clenched shut. He cracked his knuckles. He paced his hand on the hilt of the sword and began to follow her. For a while he gave her some distance. Enough to make her seem like she's not being followed. Than after a few street corners, he started to pick up his pace.

With a stroke of humor he decided to scare the mage a bit. He walked up behind her to place a hand on her shoulder and yell 'boo'

He managed to do just that. He placed a hand on her left shoulder but before he could yell, Hastur spun around. Her right hand glowing with a pale green aura. Aiming for his face. It was by luck that the man could grab ahold of the mage's wrist before it made contact.

The ranger looked into Hastur's eyes. Her left eye was badly bruised. It was swollen and starting to turn purple. Before he grabbed her wrist those big soft eyes were filled with hate. Afterwards, they were much calmer. But filled with melancholy and shame.

"Hey Hast. Lets go grab a drink." He said

The Weathered Wheel was alive with a cheery crowd. Bards sang songs of fare maidens, ales were drunk by the barrelful from thirsty workmen, and friends would visit about the goings on of their lives.

Thaelin and Hastur entered the tavern like normal. Thaelin was greeted with a row of jesting jeers from dwarves and men alike. And Hastur followed in like a shadow. No one ever taking note of her. Only a face in a crowd. Normally she enjoyed the anonymity of it. Ever the sidekick.

The ranger walked by the bar and tossed the barkeep a few copper coins "Hey Fink. We'll be in the tap room. Bring us a few beers, will ya?"

"Right-o." The halfling said giving a tug at the beer tap, filling a parched tankard with a golden foamy ale.

Sure that the two would not be disturbed, he took a seat across from the mage. Leaning back in his chair, he sat and waited. Never saying a word. He just looked across at his partner. Face blank, but friendly. Like normal

Hastur's bruised eye glanced up at the man, then down to the floor. Every once in a while, she looked up and found he hadn't moved. He still looked at her like a statue. She tugged her hood lower and turned her head in an attempt to block the sight of her purpling eye.

The barkeep's feet tapped against the planked floor. That curly haired halfling hummed a youthful tune as he carried the mugs. A thick head of froth floated atop and spilled over the edge. He placed a tankard in front of the ranger and then the cleric. Without taking his eyes off the mage, Thaelin handed the barkeep a few copper coins. Puzzled by the fixed look and the extra pay, Fink looked at Hastur. In a brief moment their eyes met. And it was all the tavern owner needed to know. Fink than looked back at Thaelin, the little man said something in the Halfling language before walking away.

"_Don't hurt the fella too bad, mate_."

Hastur glanced up to see Thaelin sitting like a statue. The mage pursed her lips. She had no clue what was going on, but something was afoot., Thaelin grabbed ahold of his mug. He reached across the table and clanked the side of Hastur's mug with his.

"Cheers" He took a single swig of the stout ale before placing it down.

"Y-yeah…cheers." Hastur muttered grabbing her tankard. After she took a small sip, the statue sitting across from her finally moved. The man leaned forward and tented his fingers together.

"So… What's his name?" Thaelin said keeping that cold and calmed look.

The mage kept quiet for a minute. Her stomach began to sour. She had no clue what he was talking about. But she had to say something "W-what?"

The man let out an annoyed sigh. "Hastur. You're not stupid, so don't play it. Now I'm gonna ask you again. What's his name?"

"I don't-"

The mans fist pounded against the table, making the half elf nearly jump out of her skin. "Don't you dare tell me you fell or it was an accident or something. I know an ass kicking when I see it."

The mage's eyes darted down. Shame washed over her. She could feel the emptiness in her core turn to sadness.

"Now tell me. What's the name of that whoreson that did that to you!"

The half elf kept silent. Her head tilted low. She wished she could hide in her cloak. Shame started to spill out. Sooner or later he was going to find out.

Thaelin grit his teeth. He could feel himself loosing his patience. "It will be easier if you tell me now. Because I will find out. And when I do, Hast. That bastard is going to have my foot so far up his ass, he's-." the man growled starting to break his clam demeanor with a heart filled declaration

"-I-it wasn't a man…It was a girl." She managed to say

The ranger leaned back in his chair. His face returned to a blank stare. In an instant he blinked into a chuckle. He took another sip of his ale. "Kinky. Didn't know you swung that way, Hast. I'm still not scared to beat the shit out of a bitch. Who is she?"

It was time for her to fess up. No use in keeping it a secret anymore. "She's a member of the Militia."

Thaelin scratched at his beard. "So. Some holy asshole is using you as his personal punching bag. Welp, looks like I'm gonna go kill a saint. Wish me luck." He said sliding his chair back and standing up.

Thaelin! _Suigh do thóin síos_!" she said in her native tongue. "Its not like that at all. I'm… _supposed_ to spar with this girl in the Militia until I can beat her. Its part of a test. But she's been kicking my ass every time. No matter how hard I try, I just can't beat her. Even without her armor and her sword. It's impossible."

Thaelin leaned on the back legs of his chair. "I'm offended, ya know. If you wanted me to kick the shit out of ya, I could have done it." The man jokingly said taking a sip of his drink.

Hastur rolled her bruised eye at the joke. But then they widened with excitement. "That's it!" she said tugging at her belt. The half elf slammed her coin purse on the table and slid it across the table. "Teach me! Teach me to fight!"

Thaelin swirled the contents of his tankard before he took a sip. "Nope."

The mage's jaw dropped. Never before had she seen the man refuse a paying job. "What!? Why not?"

The man leaned in close. "Hast, this is your business. I'm not gonna stick my nose into some dumb shit. I got no business with."

"I-I cant believe you!" the mage shook her head before burying her face in her hands.

"We're friends Hast. This is something you're gonna have to do on your own."

Darkness loomed around the mage. She sat in fear of her impossible task.

"I'm fucked!" she said into her drink "I'm so fucked. Varris is going to be using my ass as a punching bag for years. There's no fucking way I can beat her."

Thaelin's eyes went blank. He coughed and spewed out a mouthful of his ale. "*ack, ack* Wait! Varris?!"

"Yeah, Sergeant Varris Harth of the Hayak Militia. She's the one who did this to me. Don't tell me you know her?"

Never before has Hastur seen such a smile on one man before. He slowly reached across the table and dragged the coinpurse towards him. While he counted out Hastur's silver, the cleric could her him giggling. He laughed and said something in dwarven. It sounded like a bunch of gargled mumblings, but there was one single word she could catch. Still completely foreign word to her ears.

"-_Myshka-_"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Fight Club

Sunrise. A new day, a new beginning. And a new chance for the cleric to defeat her foe. Today marks roughly one month since she was given her orders to defeat the toughest warrior in the Hayak Monastery.

Hasturs eyes flashed open. Her green eyes locked onto the ceiling above her. This was it. Her first day of real training had begun. She rolled out of bed and got dressed. The mage tucked in her shirt to her trousers. She laced on her buckskin leather bodice. Thick supple boots were tied to her feet. She grabbed her cloak and clasped the yellow hood to her head.

The cleric gave herself a quick look over in a hand mirror. "You can do this." She said to her reflection.

For good measure, she retrieved her trinket box under her bed and grabbed the drake scale she took as her trophy now made into a good luck charm. She grasped the scale so tight she could feel the sharp edges dig into her palm.

She was ready, but her teacher wasn't. Thaelin, the ranger and her new teacher for hire, was fast asleep. Curled up in his bed.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" the mage yelled seeing the lazy man

Thaelin grumbled in his sleep before rolling to his side

"You said you would teach me how to fight Varris! Now get up!"

"I will, I will." he yawned "First lesson is patience. Now go back to sleep Hast."

"I don't believe this."

The cleric stole the pillow from under Thaelin's head and started pelting him with it. Feathers and profanities went flying. With this Thaelin found his motivation and the threats of another walloping, Thaelin got up out of bed.

He pulled on his trousers, tucked his shirt in, and in stead of lacing on his doublet, he strapped together his leather armor. The hardened leather cuirass carried the scars from many past battles. The man then belted on his leather arm vambraces and knee guards. Just like the chest piece, they too held the markings of conflict. Lastly his sword belt was fastened on. Short sword in his right hip and bollock dagger worn vulgarly in center.

Hastur's new teacher led the cleric through the winding streets of the Forge District. He stopped once at a blacksmith's shop to pick up a few 'supplies'. A green bottle of some kind of strong smelling booze and an object wrapped heavily in a burlap cloth. While they walked, Thaelin began to sing the beginnings of another of his songs about a beautiful girl. But no vulgar remarks in it.

"_A bear there was  
A bear, a bear  
All black and brown  
And covered in hair_

_Three boys, a goat  
And a dancing bear  
They danced and spun  
Up to the fair_

_How sweet she was  
And pure and fair  
The maid with honey  
Up in her hair_

_He smelled her all  
On the summer air  
The maid with honey  
Up in her hair_

_From there to here  
From here to there  
All black and brown  
And covered in hair_

_He smelled that girl  
In summer air  
The bear, the bear  
And maiden fair_

_Oh, I'm a maid  
And I'm pure and fair  
I'll never dance  
With a hairy bear_

_I called the knight  
But you're a bear  
All black and brown  
And covered in hair_

_From there to here  
From here to there  
All black and brown  
And covered in hair_

_He smelled that girl  
In summer air  
The bear, the bear  
And maiden fair  
The bear, the bear  
And maiden fair  
And the bear, the bear"_

The back streets of the Forge District looked like a maze to the cleric. All the buildings looked alike. Red and grey stoned buildings almost two or three stories tall surrounded them. Plumes of dark smoke lingered over head. The buildings of all the forges sounded the same.: muffled curses of laborers could be heard inside, bellowing fires being stoked became a lullaby of deep drones, and the air had a bitter taste to it.

Towards what felt like the heart of the district, the two stop towards a near a run-down warehouse building. Roughly 20-feet wide and about 50 feet long A large rusted padlock and chains held the old doors shut. "Here we are." He said unlocking the gate.

Inside it was just as terrible looking as the outside was. There was a foul odor coming from within. In the center of the floor was a series of straw mats, empty wine bottles, and dozens of used candles. Melted down to nubs. Close to the shadows, she could see a mouse or two scurry away. The mage came to the conclusion that this was a safe house her friend used. To Hastur's prim standards of living, this place was certainly a dump.

"Um...Thaelin? Won't someone hear us? I mean if two people are fighting in a warehouse, wont will have the whole city guard here to investigate? This doesn't seem legal.

Thaelin let out a chuckle, kicking the mats aside.

"There's a knight with the guards. I forget his name. He's got like snakes on his shield or something. Anyways, every week I fuck his wife. Right here-" he said pointing at the dusty mats.

Hastur's face blushed bright red at the vulgarity and despicable act of what he just said

"And let me tell ya. That bitch is a screamer. If the guards can't hear her. We'll be fine to practice you're sword fighting."

Somehow, she was almost encouraged by that. Getting lessons from Thaelin should be extremely helpful. If it meant she could get one up on Varris.

"So...How exactly do you know Varris? Did you get arrested by her a couple times?"

Thaelin unsheathed his bollock and began to clean his fingernails with the blade as he answered the half elf. "Me and _Myshka_ go way back. I wont bore you the details, but trust me when I say shes a mean bitch."

"No shit. Shes kicked my ass dozens of times already. So are you going to teach me some special technique? Some secret move you know to get past her armor?"

"Nope. That's for you to figure out. Now, lets begin." Thealin said untying the bindings on the bundle. "You'll need this." He added tossing the sack to Hastur.

The bundle was heavy in her arms. Inside was a thin object, something she thought she would never see in years. A new rapier. The guard of the new sword was made from a gleaming yellow material. The grip was made with a stark white ivory. She held the gift in her hands, nearly drawn to tears.

"Thaelin…I don't know what to say."

the man gave her a chuckle as he flourished his own sword in his hand. Twirling the blade forward and then backward in a bored manner."Thanks always works. I was gonna get you that for Yule, but...ya know."

Hastur unsheathed the blade to reveal a shining steel blade. As sharp as a razor and about as long as her old sword. Closer inspection of the blade revealed it had a water-like pattern to it. Dark and lighter colored pieces of steel pooled in a manner resembling a flowing river.

"How did you…"

"I called in a few favors. The grip is made from a leg bone of that drake you killed. I figured that would make a nice memento. Its expensive too. So don't break it. I ain't buying you another one."

Hastur gripped the sword tight. Her eyes welling up. With arms wide, and the blade accidentally pointed towards the man, Hastur went in for a hug. Thealin swatted away the blade with his dagger before it had a chance to pierce his chest. Without sharing a sappy hug, Thaelin directed the half-elf to her requested training.

"Are you ready?" Thaelin said posing with his bollock dagger. "Ten silvers says I can beat you with just my dagger."

Haster wiped the corners of her eyes and twirled the blade around. It was a magnificently balanced weapon. "You're on."

The mage lunged the blade towards the man. Blade poised straight and true. Thealin performed a pirouette and kicked the woman aside. Hastur tumbled into a roll before regaining her composure. A naughty trick, but not something she didn't expect from him.

"So what exactly has been _Myshka_ teaching you?" the man jested. "Maybe you should just hand over the silver now and call it?"

The half elf circled back around. She aimed the blade towards her opponent and charged first with a swipe coming downwards from his right. Thaelin parried the swipe and locked blades with the mage. She could feel the man's muscles falter against the strength of the extravagant blade. Her confidence was secured when she saw the man flash a worried look at her.

"Ready to pay up?" she taunted

"Nope!" the ranger smirked using his free hand to reach between the crossed blades and give the half elf's nose a pinch.

Hastur broke away. Confused by the man's antics. She looked him over. Noting about him showed a plan of attack. There were plenty of strikes to conduct, but nothing about it said he was concerned about safeguarding his weak areas.

Thaelin grabbed a discarded wine bottle and raised it to his lips. A few sips were left in the small green onion shaped bottle. "Want some? It's a good vintage?"

She could sense the deception in his lips. Hastur remained quiet. Her focus was not going to be broken by his childish larks.

"Bottoms up." The man said before threw the bottle at the mage. She created a light barrier and deflected the bottle back to the man. The deflected bottle came within a few inches from hitting him back in the arm. Hastur than rushed after the man. Chasing him to a close-by support beam. Their blades clacked all the while. Both swiping left to right. When the man's back thumped against the post, his cocky grin soon fouled. Hastur, with a wave of her hands, summoned a blue coil of chains from the floor, binding the man to the post. The magic manacles of hard light wrapped around his upper arms. From shoulder to elbow. He wiggled and kicked to get a small ounce of freedom.

"Ha! pay up!" Hastur said. For the first time in almost a month. She had a victory.

The ranger laughed. As she struggled from the restraints. "Okay. Ya got me there. But there's something you forgot."

"And whats that?" Hastur asked with a matter of fact tone.

"I still have my crossbow."

With his arms restrained, he used what little mobility he could muster from kicking his legs up to draw out his pistol crossbow with a twirl. Aiming from his hip, he fired a bolt at the mage. The panicked woman broke her focus on the bindings and replaced it with a light shield. The little bolt embeded itself in the magic barrier.

Once freed, the man fired two more bolts. He rushed to face the mage. He nicked the mage's sword hand forcing her to release her grip on the new sword. There he grabbed her by the wrist, twisted her into an arm hold and put the blade to her throat. "I win." he said twirling the bald in his hand and tapped the hilt against the top of the half elf's head.

The cleric cursed in her native tongue before switching back to the common tongue "What the hell was that?"

"That...my dear potty mouthed elf, was a distraction." He said sheathing his dagger "And by that little move you did earlier, I'd say your more than ready to kick Varris' ass."

Hastur's jaw was left hanging open. "How? I couldn't even beat a schmuck like you. What makes you think I can do that?"

The man waltzed over to the straw mats and plopped down. A large puff of dust shot up as he sat down. "Hast, tell me. How exactly do your sparring matches go down with _Myshka _?"

The mage paced around as she spoke. "Well…I meet her in the training grounds. And she proceeds to kick my ass."

"Don't you fight back?"

"I try, but she's tough. She's covered in armor. I've tried to wait it out, when she gets tired, but nothing works."

"Have you tried that magic shield trick or them chains?"

Hastur pursed her lips."N-no…"

The man sat there briefly before belting out a laugh "You idiot! You mean to tell me that you fought Varris, fucking, Harth for a month, and you haven't used a single spell against her? That's hilarious."

"Well…It would be unfair!" She defended. Her cheeks starting to blush at the mention of the obvious tactic.

"Unfair?" the man continued to laugh so hard he fell backwards "Hast. A fight is never gonna be fare. Either you use your skills against the other guy, or you wind up dead."

"But…but…"

"Talk about unfair. _Myshka_ is a scary bitch. How exactly is that fare when your a tiny wuss and you're supposed to beat her?"

The cleric paced around the warehouse. She meditated on her past moments in the training grounds. All of Varris' could have been easily defended with a shield. Her binding chains could immobilize her, and of course using a healing spell could help her stall for time as the paladin would grow tired.

Hastur snapped her fingers. "That's it. Thaelin! Thank you! For everything!" She said bolting for the door.

Thaelin sat back watching the mage bound away with much needed confidence. For a split second he cracked a honest smile having feel like he has done a genuine good deed. He then scratched at his cheek and thought about what to do with the rest of his day now that training was over.

"I wonder what Hilde is doing today?" he said with a devilish grin.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Contact!

*Clank*

*Slash*

*Thud*

The training ground was alive with full-out combat. Along the edges, swordsmen hacked against wrapped pells, Archers were shooting targets at ranges of 50yards, wrestlers grappled their opponents, and two phalanxes of steel clad trainees were in a deadlock in training with a shield wall.

Men and women yelled hurled insults at their opponents. Puffs of dirt plumed when one row of the shield wall would be pushed back. The weight of two hundred pounds of muscle and steel pressed hard against a chipped plank shield. The metal boss of an enemies shield pounded a faltering shield. Over the damaged edge, a blunted training sword slashed wildly trying to make contact against the defenders. Those battle worn shields separated the fighters from safety and the threat of danger.

From the sideline. Varris Harth paced around the skirmishers. Hollering orders for the combatants. Not taking sides, she gave orders to both armies. Her falchion rested on her shining spaulders. Using the blade to point to the recruits as she gave orders.

"Hold fast! Jobin, keep your feet flattened. Lunge! Lunge! Hold fast, you children! Keep the wall tight! Your shield protects your comrades. Are you just gonna let them get killed for your weakness? Press on, Cadets! Press! Press! Now keep it up!"

From the archway to the grounds a new combatant took up arms to enter the fight. Her little frame made her appear as a minnow in a lake of pikes. She kept her trepidation bottled. For she was riding the high of gaining the confidence needed to take on her foe.

"VARRIS!"

The grounds went silent. The skirmishing shield wall and all other practicing went still. And every head turned to the new soldier. The armies parted in two to make way for their instructor. The teacher crossed her arms when she realized who had called her out. Varris stopped in the center of the grounds. The rest of the combatants parted out of the way so the two could exchange their words.

"You and me! Right now!" the little mage proclaimed marching up to the shield wall combatants. Every eye was on her. Watching as she marched forward. Chest puffed out. Head high. And cloak tails flapping behind her.

Varris cracked a smug look at her pupil. "Are you that eager for another beating? Come back when grown-ups are done, okay?"

"Why are you scared?"

All those transfixed eyes, so astonished by the gall of the humble cleric, shifted onto the Sergeant. Her confident smirk, fell into a disgusted snarl.

"Cadet! Did that last strike to the head knock something loose? You had better run off to your little healing circle before you say something you will regret!" Varris ordered

Hastur crossed her arms as she approached the warrior. She managed to get close enough to where she could look up into the warrior's face. "I'm not going anywhere!"

*SMACK*

The arena of battle hardened warriors. Those who had cataloged dozens and hundreds of hours training to fight the evils that walk this world, gasped and shrieked at what they had just witnessed. One man even fainted at the sight.

An outstretched hand curled into a fist

Varris' glared down at the healer. A warm handprint ached on the fide of her face. She looked down at her student to find a smug mage, staring her down with her own intimidating glare. "So be it…"

The crowd of onlookers rushed away to the fenced edge of the arena. Eager to see how this bout would unfold. A halfling among the group, even started to take bets. Needless to say, almost all placed bets on the Sergeant, but one or two had to root for the underdog. Anybody who would slap the sergeants face as boldly as the mage did, was either a true idiot, or had balls of steel.

With one hand Hastur unclasped her cloak and slid the hood off her head. The bundle of cloth fell off her shoulders. The half elf unsheathed her new rapier. Making sure the blade made a dramatic 'shink' sound as it was being drawn.

Varris grasped her sword tight. She let out a fierce grunt as the mighty blade was swung at the side, aiming to cleave the little elf's head clean off. The blade clanked against the mage's thin blade. Again, and again, the falchion made contact with the rapier, but not a single chip was made against the pattern welded blade.

Hastur raised her free hand to cast a spell. "_Tutela_!" proclaimed the mage as a light blue circle formed around her hand. With her magic shield and new sword, the mage pressed on slashing, lunging, and blocking incoming swipes and chops from the blue haired behemoth. The two exchanged more strikes before they found themselves in a deadlock. Varris' sword bearing down, and Hastur's thin blade beginning to wobble from the strain. A nervous bead of sweat trailed along the side of the mage's head.

"Any last words?" Varris laughed pressing her blade down against the tiny rapier. Hastur gave the paladin a worried look before her eyes blinked wide.

"Nope!" she said before removing her free hand from the hilt and reached between the crossed blades to throw a fist into the warrior's face. Varris broke off from the lock and clenched her face.

The little half elf pirouetted around and in her recovery she pointed the blade towards her foe. She sidestepped around into a half circle. Trying to find a weak spot to exploit.

Varris growled as she swung the falchion around into another light blue shield.

Again and again, the two women danced around the arena. Varris would slash her sword at the little mage, Hastur would deflect her strike with her barrier, than the half elf would try to go in to strike at a gap in the warrior's armor, only to have it parried by the mighty blade.

It was there that Hastur had imagined her next great plan of attack. The half elf ducked under an incoming swipe and rolled away to the edge of the arena fence. She sheathed her new rapier and lowered her hands to her side. She recited the incantation for a spell and opened her hands. From each palm, a glowing ball of blue light emerged. When she finished the incantation, she shot her hands forward. Casting two clattering blue ethereal chains of hard light to snake their way through the air and wrap themselves around Varris' arms. Hastur gave the chains a sudden jerk and the bindings became taut.

The magical chains weighed heavily on the paladin's arms. When the lines became tightened, Varris' grip on her falchion was torn free. The longsword slid away into the dirt. The mage finally had the warrior in her trap.

Varris threw her head back, removing her hair from her line of sight. She widened her stance and grabbed ahold of her chains. Varris flashed her student a cocky smirk. "GET OVER HERE!"

Hastur's eyes widened when she found herself be pulled through the air towards the warrior. Varris cocked back a fist and swung it square at the incoming mage. The punch hit its mark hitting the made in the chest. The mage lay gasping for breath. Her chest was on fire. And coming closer to her was her foe. Ready to pummel her face in.

"I'm going to enjoy this." Varris said cracking her knuckles. The clanking bits of her armor sounded like drums heralding the pain she was about to inflict.

The half elf panicked. She put herself to action by rolling about ten feet away before flipping herself to her feet. The little mage pursed her lips in thought there had to be a way to get the best of this tank of a combatant.

With one final spell, Hastur produced another defensive spell. She clenched her fist tightly and muttered the words for her light shield. Another light blue circle shaped barrier appeared around the length of her forearm.

The mage slid her right foot back to gain as much moment as she hoped she could build for her next attack. Of all the stupid maneuvers, she had planned thus far, this was going to be her most brazen. The mage redrew out her rapier with an exaggerated flurry that cut through the air with a sharp whip-like sound. With magic shield and sword in hand, the cleric charged full pace at the battle worn paladin. Hastur's head ducked under the edge of the light shield and needle thin blade ready to thrust into any weak spot of the warrior's thick armor

Varris cocked back her fist and positioned her weight to her center of mass. Once the glowing shield was in range, the veteran fighter swung hard. Her gauntlet clad fist pounded against the hard-light barrier so hard it rang out a metallic 'ting' that could be heard all across the Monastery.

The paladin smirked through the shield at a determined mage stopped in her tracks. She went to raise her falchion for another strike, but failed to. The longsword fell from her grasp. Varris looked down at her arm and saw a thin needle-like blade poking between a small gap in her armor. Piercing her gambeson and drawing blood.

Both the warrior and mage's eyes widened to the size of saucers. Hastur couldn't believe she managed to get a strike between the paladin's armor. And Varris couldn't believe that someone managed to get a strike close enough to draw blood.

Varris stood mesmerized by the stinging ache in her arm. For once in her life she found herself to be vulnerable. The half elf took this opportunity to retract the blade and swing a solo punch into the warrior's jaw.

Completely caught up in the moment, Hastur felt her spirits rise. She did it. She managed to wound the toughest woman in Hayak. With every punch, Hastur could feel a tiny bit of her soul gain an ounce of freedom that was crushed under her training. But as she fought on, she felt herself act strangely. Like she didn't have control of her actions and after a while her body felt numb. This was just like last time, with the muggers. Only now she couldn't snap herself out of it.

"How. Do. You. Like. It. Now. Bitch!?"

The cleric found herself grinning. Her handiwork was truly well done this time. The warrior lay unresponsive on the ground. Face battered. Blood coming from the sides of her lip. Hastur crawled to her feet, very winded and a sense of much needed confidence held in her chest. She smirked at her beaten foe. She had finally done it. She won.

The last thing she remembered was the split second view of a crowd of armor clad recruits rushing to their sergeant's aid.

The sweet aroma of lavender and vanilla filled Hastur's nostrils. She blinked her eyes open and found her taken to another location. The chamber room of the monastery's Matron Superior. Her head was aching something terribly

Hastur was sitting in a chair placed directly in front of the Matron's desk. The crone sat, unblinking eyes transfixed on the cleric. Hands resting

"I trust the training went well?" the old woman remarked. Her face unreadable. But her tone certainly carried a hint of sarcasm in it.

"Oh! Matron Mother! Y-yes. The training went well. I was able to complete Sergeant Harth's regimen."

The old mage extended a finger, indicating for the youth to be silent. "I wasn't talking to you, Sister Prynn!"

Off in the corner, was a heavily bandaged slender figure was leaning up against the eastern wall of the chamber. Hastur couldn't quite recognize the figure. But one look at the figure's electric blue hair instantly identified her as the sergeant, Varris Harth, only without armor. The paladin was plainly dressed in a blousy white collared shirt and a pair of black leggings. Her two fierce and bruised blue eyes glared at the cleric. Her face was bruised severely.

The warrior replied with a raspy horsed voice. "Ma'am. Under my teaching the cadet had studied the rhythms and techniques taught to every recruit under the Militia. And she failed every lesson."

"I see…" the matron remarked watching Hastur's head drop down in shame.

"The Cadet failed to retain even the simplest of combat stances and rudimentary sparring maneuvers."

"And what of the events earlier today in the training yard?"

Hastur could feel her heart get ripped out of her chest at the mention it all. To her memory, her actions weren't her own. She couldn't defend herself with that. She would be branded insane locked away in the coldest dampest dungeon and her abilities stricken from her.

"The Cadet interrupted a training practice and insulted her instructor in front of my peers. After a brief exchange of words, she struck me. That's when our fight began, and from there she began to use magics to defend herself."

At the mention of the arcane arts, the matron glanced over at the terrified half elf.

"And tell me Sergeant, how did she withstand your wrath?"

"The cadet used primarily defensive spells. Light shields and magic bindings."

"And how did you receive those injuries?"

The warrior exhaled through her broken nose. It whistled a bit which made the cleric's heart ache worse. "The Cadet got a lucky strike in. Her sword pierced my shoulder in between a sliver gap between my armor. From there she knocked me to the ground, and started to engage hand to hand combat.

"A shame." The matron Superior tented her fingers all while watching Hastur squirm in her chair. It was like a predator playing with its food before going for the kill "Sergeant, you are dismissed. Go to the Infirmary and see that the other clerics tend to your wounds."

"Ma'am." Varris said before giving the Matron a salute. Before she walked away, the warrior's cold blue gaze shot to through Hastur like a hot knife through butter.

Once the two were left alone, they sat in an awkward silence that seemed to last for an hour. Not one spoke a word. The matron didn't begin with a lecture and the pupil didn't attempt to declare the reasons behind her actions.

The elder raised her hand and posed her bony fingers for a finger snap. Hastur shut her eyes wincing in fear for that dreaded snap. There's no telling what would happen at the snap. If the stories were true then she would be able to take away her powers at an instant.

*SNAP*

The smell of electricity filled the air. And in an instant, Hastur heard the whoosh of air blowing in front of her, then a loud thud landing on the Matron's desk

The half elf opened cracked her eyes open slightly. Once there was no obvious sign of danger, she let herself become a little more relaxed, but more cautious. A large 1000-paged book sat on the desk between her and the Matron.

"Pick it up." The crone said with a wave

With a shaking hand, Hastur reached her hand out for the book. She let her hand hover over the thing before actually touching it. The cover was smooth aged leather. She ran her fingers between the valleys of spiraling artwork embossed on the cover.

"This tome contains every spell I know or have ever used." The Matron said firmly "Study it. Memorize every incantation, every symbol, every recipe, and every passage. Do this and you shall become as great as I once was."

Hastur's breath escaped her. She was, for lack of a better word, spellbound. The beauty of such a tome was amazing. She had thousands and thousands of questions about it. When she tried to formulate a sentence, only one word could manage to be spoken "Why?"

The old woman sat back in her chair. Hands resting comfortably in her lap "You completed my test." She said simply enough

"But? …I used magic to win a fight. I cheated. I don't deserve to be your pupil." Hastur lowered her head. She buried her face in her hands. The shame of saying it out loud was like torture. She wished she had her cloak. That way she could hide herself away in it.

Mother Illisa gave the half elf a slight chuckle. "And, pray tell, how is this cheating? You did as I had instructed. It took you longer than I expected, but you finished the deed."

"But, Ma'am. Using magic against an ordinary human is cheating."

The crone rolled her head and sighed deeply. "Your talents lie in the usage of magic and sword. Whereas the Sergeant's talents rest in using a sword and armor. It is not cheating."

"But what about the Militia? Certainly they will protest your decision to have me as your pupil after that altercation."

"The paladins are a prideful bunch. They all hate to admit that somebody is stronger then they. Give it time and let them lick their wounds. The Sergeant will forget about it."

Hearing these words helped comfort the young mage greatly. "Thank you, Mother Illisa."

The old woman gave the half elf a caring smile. "Not to worry, child. But heed my instruction now. Study this book. It is yours now. And I want to see progress. I'm afraid you are going to need it in the coming times."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: On the Prowl

A steady evening rain fell to the streets on the edge of the Cloud District and the Forge District. Rainwater began to collect in the center of the awnings of the market stalls and store fronts. The plumes of smoke from the foundries and blacksmith shops seemed to add to the light gray rain clouds above. On the horizon a break in the clouds seemed to be on its way.

A poked her head outside the awning of a bookstore to see if the rain was beginning to let up. Much to her surprise the front passed over head into a sparse sprinkle. Enough to not cause her to fret over a drenched outfit.

In the dreary evening light, her plum colored hair shone a darker hue. Her head always poised forward. A small pair of round spectacles rested delicately on the bridge of her button nose. A pair of violet eyes rested behind them. Her skin was pale like that of a pearl. She wore a short white dress with short round ruffled sleeves. Underneath she wore a royal blue shift that extended down to her ankles. A pair of violet slippers graced her feet. A black ribbon band wrapped around her waist twice and tied into a bow in the back. Everywhere she went, she caught more than one man's eye. She didn't mind this. The attention was flattering. But only one man had her heart. And she was on her way to meet the man of her dreams.

She paced around the market with a soft gate. She stopped from stall to stall admiring the wares the gemcrafter's had procured. She stopped and admired the work of an extravagant ruby necklace. The likes of which were mesmerizing to the eye. Bright red, the size of a cherry, and cut into a square facet. Four gold claws clutched the gemstone in a tight fitting for a necklace. Her amber eyes reflected to beauty of the stone. It was perfect in every sense. Just like her.

The evening sun poked its setting rays through the rain clouds. Breaking the dreary looking overcast skies. Large layers of dark yellows and light oranges painted the horizon. With little business for the day, vendors of the market began to close their stalls. Packing up their wares and returning to their warm and dry homes.

"I was worried you weren't going to come." said a hearty voice from among the row of merchants. A man in a long green tunic with gold trim emerged from the stalls. A slim two pieced goatee smiled at the woman. On his belt, he wore a dark wood handled dirk knife. A swollen cloth coinpurse jingled next to it. The beauty returned the look. They shared a loving hug before the two locked arms and continued down the street.

"How was your day?" asked the man.

"It was a very slow day. This rain kept away all of my customers away."

"Indeed. The banks were the same way today. But a little peace and quiet can do wonders for the mind."

The woman noticed that when she walked with her beloved, all other commoners would step aside. Showing the two respect and their station in the society. This is what she loved about being with her suitor. For once she got to feel what it was like to be a noble. Soon after their rendezvous, the two were called upon by an eager voiced Halfling outside a flower shop waving at the couple.

"Madam Raine!" A florist greeted just switching the small placard from 'Open' to 'Closed'.

"Jenny, how have you been?" asked the plum haired beauty, leaning down to give the Halfling a hug.

"Fair. This drought is rough on business, but I manage. Today's rain might help keep me in business. Is this the suitor you spoke of?"

The woman blushed at the mention of the goateed man. He smiled and presented himself with a bow.

"Richard Rakkes, Madame." The man said with a bow.

The florist returned with a courtesy. Pinching the edges of her apron and dipping low. "Raine sure is a lucky girl to have a gentleman courting her." Smiled the halfling "Would you care for a bouquet?"

"Sure." The man said fishing out a few gold coins from his purse. "I'm sure this will be enough, and a little extra for the drought."

The halfling's hands shook as the coins were placed in her little cupped hands. "Oh my! Bless you, my lord! Bless you!"

Raine looked over the selection of flowers and decided upon a sweet smelling bouquet of purple lilies.

"You sure are an optimist." Laughed the woman. Leaning her head against her escort as they walked on.

"There is good locked away in everyone. Its only up to us to unlock that good and give some goodness to others."

Those optimistic words made the woman's heart flutter. Such kindness. Such a warm heart. It was truly a rare commodity in this world.

The nobleman guided his date through the most splendid parts to take in: picturesque cityscapes, a park in the Cloud District with the most beautiful water fountains carved in the North, and a wondrous view of the sunset setting against the city walls. It was perfect. They were perfect.

The warm aroma of fresh coffee made Raine's stomach growl. Her cheeks blushed with embarrassment from the inviting smells. The young lord smiled at his date. "Hungry are you? After this, why don't we get something to eat? I believe there is a restaurant still open."

"A meal would sound lovely." Raine laughed, clutching her stomach as it growled once more. "I'm embarrassed to say, but I'm famished."

"For you my dear, I will give you the most delicious meal you can imagine."

Raine's mouth watered at the thought of a succulent steak served rare. Rich and juicy. The inclement weather had put all business for the day at a stand-still. Shops closed early and the couple wandered about trying to find an open tavern.

As they walked, Raine heard the splash of someone stepping into a puddle. She turned her head backwards to look into the reflection of a passing window. In her reflection, she saw it. Her speculations were correct. They were being followed.

"Richard, there's someone following us." the beauty whispered, panic was etched on her lips

"Indeed. He's been following us since the park. If he doesn't leave us be, I will take action."

"Richard…" Raine ducked behind her suitor fearful of a would be altercation.

The heavy footsteps continued on. Following the couple at the same pace. The man's hand creeped towards his dagger. Pivoting on the balls of his feet, Richard drew forth his dagger.

"Be gone, brigand!" the nobleman demanded dagger poised ready to strike if need be.

The stranger paid no attention to the man. He stopped for a moment, kept his head down, and continued on his own path. Diverging from the sidewalk into the street and then back onto the street. The stranger walked on past the two, paying them no mind. His gaze fixed down at where he was walking.

Richard outstretched his arm to provide a protective reach towards his beloved. Once the pedestrian was past. Richard's gaze locked onto the man until he was far enough away.

He let out a sigh of relief and sheathed his dirk. "I'm so sorry my dear. I don't know what came over me just then."

"You are such a brave man." The woman smiled at the man. Her hand gently caressed his cheek. She leaned forward into a tight hug. Placing her head into the corner of the man's neck. The noble man raised his hands to hold her. She smelled sweet. Sweet like the lilies in her arms. Richard wished he could put this moment to memory so he could think of this as long as he lived. Her skin was so soft. Perfect like alabaster, yet cold as ice.

Raine rested her head against her escort's shoulder. She closed her eyes. Raine took a deep breath, opened, and clenched down onto the man's exposed neck. The noble man could feel her lips against his skin. His smile soon soured when he felt her lips part, and her sharp teeth bore down. Richard was stuck there, paralyzed in both fear and shock. Raine's teeth clenched into his Trapezius muscle. She jerked her head a bit to tear away a few pieces of the tender muscle.

The man stood in horror at what had just happened. He turned to look his beloved in the eye. To his surprise, they were not the warm and affectionate they were cold. Soulless. Haunting red eyes than sunk back into her skull. Her smooth pale skin shriveled and turned to a sickly green leather. Her teeth grew longer into a mouth full of sharp fangs.

Richard screamed and drew out his dagger again. The little blade shook in his hands "Raine? Raine! What happened to you?!"

With a hissed voice, the creature cackled in laughter. "I told you, my dear. I'm hungry."

As soft as a breeze, a crossbow bolt pierced the back of the woman's neck. The barbed tipped crossbow bolt protruded from the right side of her throat.

Warm and thick blood splattered against the top of Richards tunic. His mouth agape. Hyperventilating terror grasped him when Raine's hideous body went limp in his arms. He screamed in terror. Not just for the monstrosity that tried to kill him, but its sudden demise.

From the shadows the heavy boots returned. The stranger returned from the shadows. "Damn. Talk about a man-eater, am I right?" chuckled the man, twirling a pistol crossbow on one finger.

"W-w-w-what was that!"

The stranger nudged the beast's torso with his foot. "Ghoul I think. Or maybe an Alghoul? I don't know, these undead things look so much alike its hard to tell."

"Sir! Y-y-you saved me! I'm forever in your dept. tell me How can I repay you!?"

The man scratched at his beard. It made a rasping sound as he itched. "Ya got any gold?"

Richard tore the coinpurse from his belt and tossed it to the young man. "Take it! Take it all!" he said throwing the pouch at the stranger before running off. "T-thank you sir!

The ranger smiled as he bounced the pouch in his hand. The jingle of the coins inside was like sweet music to his ears. Tucked the purse into his doublet pocket and began to walk off whistling a joyous tune. The crack of joints popping made the ranger lower his head in disappointment. "Damn it! Undead...that's right. Why can't you freaks ever stay dead when I try to kill you, huh?"

The monster's joints popped more as it rose itself to stand on all four limbs. Its repugnant wormy skin wrinkled around its snarling lips. The beast bore its blood drenched fangs at the man. The bolt from his crossbow still embedded in the things skull. "I will eat your heart, human!" it croaked before lunging forward.

"How about you eat my ass!" remarked the ranger drawing out his bollock dagger.

The ranger a few steps forward so he had an alleyway to his side, so just in case he had to bolt, he had an exit strategy. The ranger twirled the dagger into reverse grip as the ghoul charged at him. Its claws clacking against the cobblestone street. Just as it pounced at him. He performed a pirouetted narrowly escaping a pair of claws almost grazing his throat. The creature landed and slid several feet before sliding and charging up for a second attack. The man chuckled as he gave the creature an flamboyant bow.

""Well my dear, if you wanted to dance, you could have just asked nicely."

The ghoul wiped the drooling saliva from the corner of its toothy grin.

"Such a gentleman." it hissed.

The unsettling cacophony of joints popping out and then into place. It wailed a blood curdling shriek as its fangs began to recede back into its jaws. The ghoul's skin shifted from its haggard leather look to its previous soft lively form. Now back in its human form, the monsteress smiled menacingly at the huntsman. Her one eye still retained its red bloodshot look. If it wasn't for the bolt still stuck in her throat, dripping thick blackened blood, Thaelin felt he would have been weakened by her charm.

"Neat trick." he scoffed dryly

The woman tugged at her stretched out dress as she circled back and forth. Her feet pattering against the cold street.

"If you think that's impressive, how about you and I go somewhere? I can show you some other ones." the beastly woman snickered, tossing her glasses aside.

"Sorry baby. As fun as that sounds, I have more self-respect than going around fucking a gold digging tramp like you."

"Gold digger?!" Raine snarled as she began to rush the man.

Expecting a slash from her claws or a bite from the monster's jaw's, Thaelin was caught off guard by a swift and painful kick to the crotch. The man fell to the ground wincing from the pain. The woman glared down at him, her red eyes glaring through his tearful gaze. The ghoul woman cocked her foot back again and struck the man in the chest so hard he flew backwards into the alleyway. The man was engulfed by the darkness. He rolled and tumbled as he slid across the dirty ground. Cursing with every bound until he crashed into a rotten rubbish pile.

"Fuck...shit...damn it..."

The man shook the dizziness from his head as the pitter-patter of the beast's feet echoed as she entered the darkness after her prey.

In a feeble attempt, Thaelin tried to duck low behind a couple of crates. He hoped the darkness around him and Lady Luck's blessing would aid him in hiding away.

Raine's lips smirked at the man's feeble attempt to try and hide from her. She could smell him. That delicious smell of fear. That savory marinade of sweat coating the delectable layer of skin. Just thinking about her next meal made the ghoul-woman's stomach growl. Raine's eyes glowed a soft red for an instant, a sign that she activated her Darkvision sense. Her silhouette from outside the alley, showed a monstrous form. Her fingers long and bony and the iris of her eyes shined with a faint red light.

The man peered from behind a crate, his foe was slowly making her way towards him. He could hear her sniffing the air. He witnessed the ghoul try to pull the bolt free from her neck, but as she pulled it clearly caused her pain. To the ranger, this was a good sign. Thaelin tried to imagine his best course of action. There had to be a way he could defeat such a beast without getting devoured or the complete shit beaten out of him by some undead monstrosity.

"Fuck it!" the ranger whispered while emerging from his hiding spot. "Hey bitch! "Did I say gold digger? I meant to say a cheap slut!""

The ghoul-woman opened her mouth and barred a set of many crooked and pointed fangs. "Eager to die already?"

"So I gotta ask, were you after that rich guy as a meal or was it cuz he was your Sugar Daddy?

Raine growled as she lunged for the man. Sparking the beast's ire was a dangerous ploy the man was sure could cause her to mess up, allowing for an opening he could use to slay the beast.

Thaelin moved in with his bollock dagger, swiping away at the beast, but only attacking air. The two exchanged a few blows before the beast used its supernatural strength against him. He received an iron-fisted punch to the chest, and felt a good rib or two crack. Raine clenched the ranger's head in her hand. The sharp points of her talons began to slowly dig into the man's flesh. He could feel a trail of blood begin to trail down from his temple. Rain smirked victoriously at her next meal. He was forced to drop his dagger from the pain. The deadly beauty leaned in and gave the ranger a slight kiss in the neck. His veins protruded as she widened her lips to take a bite.

The man squeezed his eyes shut from the pain at the corners of his head. "Okay, fuck this shit."

He flailed a free hand towards the monster's face trying to feel around for his last resort at staying alive. The woman laughed at his soft pats, thinking this was the point where his spirit was about to be finally broken before death. It was there that Thaelin took hold of the monster's arm that grappled him with his right arm. Using his left hand, the ranger swung a punch towards the elbow of the beast. The joint snapped like a twig. She wailed in pain and dropped her prey to gingerly cradle the broken arm. After the crippling strike, the ghoul tried to crawl into the shadows, away from the menacing man.

Finally, the beast loosened her grip on the man. The ranger rolled away to retrieve his dagger. In the darkness, the man fumbled around helplessly for his dagger.

Raine cowered in fear of the huntsman. She had underestimated him gravely. Here, he was the predator and she was his prey. As she tried to crawl away, she noticed something odd for the human when she looked at him with her Darkvision. His eyes. Those eerie blue eyes.

"Mercy!" the ghoul woman struggled to say with the bolt in her neck "Have mercy. Don't kill me please!"

Thaelin leaned in close. He looked the ghoul dead in the eye, and his blue eyes were made visible by a slight sliver of light from the street. On command, his blue eyes flashed a brief blue shimmer similar to how her own glowed previously before the tides of their battle were turned.

"W-what are you?"

"I'm a badass!" smirked the ranger as he head-butted the ghoul woman in the face. While she was stunned, Thaelin grabbed tightly around the triangular point of the crossbow bolt. In one forceful jerk, he freed the bolt from its place. The ranger heard Raine cry in pain as the bolt was torn from her neck. He spun the bolt around in his fingers and slammed the little arrow back into the eye of his attacker.

As a coup de gras for the monstrosity, Thaelin grabbed the undead monstrosity by her plum colored hair and dragged her through the alley to a nearby crate not damaged by his earlier fling into the debris. The man lifted her head to the edge and took a step away.

Tears fell down the monster's cheeks. She knew this was the end. Her hopes she had in her un-life were about to end. Once and for all. If it wasn't for her killer, she would have been happy. She could have an existence in peace she would never have had when she was alive.

"P-please, have mercy!" cried the ghoul-woman

Thaelin couldn't help but chuckle. She was such a viscous beast moment ago, but now, a pathetic creature begging for its life "Nah!"

The ranger slammed his foot down onto the back of the beast's head. He felt the creature's neck bones crack under his heel. He stomped a few more times trying to make sure that the beast was dead once and for all. After the third or fourth stomp, the beast's head was hanging on by a few sinewy veins struggling to stay connected. He kicked the head free from the beastly woman's shoulders and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"H-holy fucking shit." he laughed panting for breath "That had to be the most metal thing I've ever done. I'm such a badass!"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Gone Fishing

*KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK*

For its third repetition, that insufferable knocking continued to piss off Thaelin to the point he had to do something about it. The ranger's eye's burned in the light of the new day. He shielded his vision from the bright morning sunlight shining its way in through the windows next to the hearth. After a long night of beheading the ghoul woman, he was incredibly sore from the fight that ensued.

"Mr Fridulf! I know you're in there! Open this damned door this instant!" Came a shrewish voice from his boarding room.

The man rolled out of bed and stumbled towards the door. His legs were stiff as they shambled to the door. He didn't worry about putting on pants, in his lazy mindset. His long sleeved shirt that stretched down to his kneed as sufficient.

"Yeah? What do you want?" he said flinging the door open. "Its 12 in the afternoon, some of us are trying to sleep."

Not to his surprise, Their landlady, Madame Glassgate was on the other end. And it was clear as day, she was in a more foul mood than normal. Her perpetual scowl worsened when she looked up and saw the man in only his shirt

"_S__hteln etlekhe hoyzn, ir ekldik nebekhl_!" the old Halfling woman said averting her eyes to the undressed man.

Thaelin smirked as her answered in the Halfling language "_De__molt ton nit kukn__._"

"Mr. Fridulf!" the old Halfling woman scowled at the degenerate tenant "You and Mrs Prynn are late on your rent…AGAIN!"

The man rubbed the sleep from his eyes, leaned against the door frame, and let out a yawn. "Well, I will have you know that I have your rent, right fucking here."

The man left the door ajar as he retreated back into the room and retrieved the coinpurse he was 'rewarded' from the previous night. He poured out a few coins and counted out a 50 gold coins as per their usual rent. He would harass Hastur later about how now she owned him for paying rent.

Whilst his back was turned, the old shrew crept inside the two's shared living space. Her pointed nose was turned upside to the less than savory living conditions a respectable mage like Hastur would subject herself to. She pitied the poor girl for being forced to live with the degenerate like Thaelin. When she swiveled her head over to the ranger's side of the room, the sight was enough to make her stomach churn.

"Bwah!" gasped the landlady "What in the Nine Hells have you done to this room?!"

"What?" the man turned and shrugged not finding any fault with his living conditions.

"Why did you bring such ghastly articles in my building? And furthermore, why are they hanging upon this wall?" she demanded while placing a hand over her mouth. She was clearly distraught by the visage of souvenirs the man had collected after a while.

"Those are my trophies." He put bluntly

"Trophies? There is nothing of merit here, sir. Only disgusting oddities and macabre curios. I demand you remove them at once. Or I shall have you and Mrs. Prynn vacated from this premises post haste!"

The man gave the old halfling a sarcastic chuckle and then crossed his arms. "Like hell you will. I'm a ranger, ya hear?" the man began to circle around the land lady. "I've been killing things that would use your bones as chew toys, since I was a boy."

He then started to list off the story behind each of the mementos. In graphic detail to best paint the landlady a clear portrait of his exploits

"Those ears," he pointed to the garlands hanging by a slim tack, "those were taken from a war band of the most ugly goblins you would have seen in the Dwarven outskirts of Dueh Lobeer. Those slimy green freaks were pillaging every mine they could stumble upon. Most of them I smashed their heads in with clumps of the iron ore itself."

The man then turned to the roughly crafted giant's club in the corner. "On the northern most part of Kessier Forest there was a giantess slaughtering attacking pilgrims on their way from the mountains. In the dead of night, I snuck into her camp, while she was asleep I crept into her bed and cut her throat wide open. I saw the fear in her eyes as she tried to reach for that club. Her bloody handprints are still on the grip."

Thaelin smirked as she started to see the halfling woman quaking in her shoes. For added measure, he decided to spill out the rest of the coins from the ghoul victim's coinpurse and hang the drawstring on a bare peg "I just got this last night. I don't want to tell you exactly what it was, but lets just say it was something that walked the streets just like you and I."

Madame Glassgate gave a nervous gulp. She motioned towards the door wishing to never lay eyes on such a putrid display again. "M-Mr. Fridulf. I don't wish to see those trinkets ever again. If you feel the urge to bring one into this building, b-be sure I don't see it."

The man stood back and watched the landlady quiver in fear, but a part of him started to feel guilty over his joke.

"Yes, Madame Glassgate."

Once left alone with his collection of artifacts, Thaelin scratched at his beard before trying to go back to sleep. The bell tower in the center of Hayak struck once before its usual chimes followed. The cries of merchants echoed upwards. The loud blurts from a team of mules rattled the glass panes of the windows. Thaelin tried to bury his head under his pillow, but to no avail. The man got dressed, grabbed his canvas knapsack, and started to pack away a few provisions for a days trip.

He left the hustle and bustle of the city for the peaceful tranquility of the forest. Given his chosen profession, he felt at one with the woods just as much as he did in the city. It was a second home for him. And this trip was just what he needed.

About a mile or two from the trade roads, Thaelin weaved his way through the rough growth of trees to one of his favorite secluded spots along the river. It was secluded, and most importantly free from noise. The gentle current drowned out any unwanted sounds.

On the river bank an old cane fishing pole rest onto a notched stick. The single fishing line was gently stretched out into the water. A man in a worn and ragged outfit sat on the riverbank looking over his spot. His back leaning against an old log of dried-out driftwood. He sat comfortably still. Paying no heed to the rustling sounds of an incoming soul to his private fishing hole. From the brushes behind him, Thaelin emerged and greeted his fellow fisherman.

"Hey Bones, how you doing? Don't get up on my account." He said with a chuckle.

The ranger dropped his knapsack into the sand bank a respectable distance away from the other fisherman. He retrieved a waxed linen spool of fishing line from a tin case and prepared his line. Poking its head up from the earth, Thaelin plucked a long stringy worm from its hole, and skewered half of it onto his hook for bait. The ranger then tossed his fishing line into the river and sat back, his back rested on the end of the same piece of driftwood. He closed his eyes at the peaceful world around him: The babbling stream, the songs of nearby robins building their nests, the cool shady foliage covering them, and the gentle pull of the line as the current drags his hook down river. This was the peace he so desperately desired. The man looked to his side and gave a friendly grin to his stoic neighbor

"Bones, I gotta say. I envy you, buddy. You get to spend all day here. You don't have a single worry. Lucky bastard. How you been dude? Catch anything?""

The fisherman didn't reply. His sunken eyes were looking on at the river. Thaelin chuckled at the silence while he untied his boots. He outstretched his toes and dug his heels in the firm damp sand

"That's why I like you, Bones. You don't talk much. Life in the city has been rough. Yesterday I killed this ghoul-thing that took a bite out of her sugar daddy. Shot her in the neck and that only pissed her off. You should have been there dude, Chased me into a dark alley and I curb stomped that bitch. It was fucking awesome. Man, monsters are getting ballsy these days. I mean she was inside the town. Snuggled up real close to this noble before trying to make him into a manwich. But enough of work talk."

The second fisherman kept still like a statue, paying no heed to the man. Thaelin nodded his head as he kept on talking

"You remember Hastur? She's that elf roommate of mine I told you about. Anyway she got this cushy job at her church thing, and she's been doing a lot more of her churchy stuff." the man pursed his lips and looked on at the flowing river "She hasn't gone on a single bounty job with me in a long time. She's too busy. Gotta say I miss her."

The ranger shook the melancholy from his head. "Bones, we've known each other for a while now. You don't talk much, and I respect that. You have been a good friend. You listen and you don't judge. But I just gotta ask. What am I doing wrong? I'm twenty-six years old and I'm barely scraping by here. I kill monsters and what do I get in return? Not a single thanks. Just a couple scars, a pouch of silver, and nothing. Maybe my sister was right. I should stop being such a slacker."

A silent half hour went by. Thaelin pulled in his line, recast it, and sat back thinking about his more stories to tell his friend. Bones continued to lounge against the log. He stayed perfectly contempt where he was.

"Oh, Get this, Bones. _Myshka _is in Hayak. That's right, the bear, herself. And she joined up with those self-righteous pricks, The Militia. Can you believe that shit?"

Before the fisherman could answer, Thaelin went back to his monologue.

"I don't know Bones, should I talk to her? I mean what would I even say? '_Hey Myshka, please don't punch my face in, but wanna go out sometime?' _Its been years since we separated , but I still miss her, ya know? That beautiful blue hair, the way she can scare the shit out of you one minute, then kiss you the next, and that nice ass of hers." he said with a nostalgic chuckle "Absence makes the heart grow fonder right?"

"Did I tell you one time, Myshka and I were at this backwater tavern in Yurn Tabil? These guys were giving her shit over her being a woman fighter. They said dumb shit like, '_How can you swing yer sword when ya got such great tits in the way?_ _How about I hold them for ya_?' needless to say, myska got so pissed she charged up to the blowhard, grabbed him by the pecker and said ' _I cant imagine it being hard walking with something so tiny in your way. Maybe I should cut it off_? That guy was so scared he-"

A strong jerk came from the deep river. The waxed line became taught and Thaelin jumped to life. He gave the line a fierce tug to set the iron hook into whatever was on the other end.

"-Hold that thought, Bones!"

The ranger wrapped the line around his hands and pulled with all his might. The fine jute cord dug into his hands. Whatever he had snagged, it was big.

"Your ass is mine, bitch!" The ranger laughed wading out into the river at knee depth. He loosened his grip slightly to give the line slack before wrapping his hands around the cord again to reel the fish in. The fisherman flexed his muscles as he pulled on the cord. The shimmering suns reflection blinded the man's eyesight briefly before he walked closer into the river. His eyes widened with excitement. His catch was going to be a real treat for the table, and its skull will make a good trophy. In a shallow portion of the riverbed. The ranger could finally make out the outline of his opponent. And it was indeed big. Very big.

A green body and yellow speckled flank flashed upwards, it was then that Thaelin realized he was facing a larger catch than he expected.

"Oh shit! Bones!"

A dozen needle like teeth clenched onto the fisherman's leg and wiggled its massive head vigorously before it started to swim down stream. Bones sat on the edge of the river watching on as he always did. He saw as Thaelin be dragged underwater by the large water beast. The ranger's cries for help went unanswered. A few gasped bubbles of air rose to the surface, then Thaelin's arm flew upwards flailing wildly before going back under. The peace and stillness of the fishing hole returned for a few uninterrupted moments. A few times did Thaelin's head breach the surface, gasping for breath before beigh dragged back under. and once or twice did the fish's massive rounded tail splash upwards, fanning a large wave that lapped against the shore.

Not far down stream, did the man's feet get a chance to catch against a shallower part of the river and dig into the murky bottom. He pulled against the current to the point he felt his muscles were going to tear. He flung his head above the surface and gasped for breath. He wasn't going to let go. This was the catch of a lifetime.

"Oh no you don't, bitch!" the man yelled before diving back down.

His battle waged on and he finally got to a point where he could wear out the mighty fish. He wrestled with its muscular body. Using a sunken rocky crevice as leverage, he pulled in the massive fish. The extremely muscular creature circled back around and started to swim back towards the man.

Thaelin couldn't see much in the greenish tinged water, but he could, without a doubt, see the beast charging after him. Its toothy maw held open ready to try to bite and tear his flesh a second time. At the last minute, he swam aside just missing the needle-like teeth and reached back to grab ahold of its bony gills. He held on for dear life as the water-beast swam up river. He couldnt help but smile at the sight no one would ever believe. The way he was holding onto the fish, he thought he looked like he was riding thing like a horse.

"Okay, lets end this, bitch." he said coming up for his final gasp of breath. He wrestled with the fish, throwing punch after punt at the creature's head until it would stop wiggling and diving back down into the deeper parts of the stream. Once it seemed well tired, he hopped off his aquatic stead and he tried to make his way for the riverbank. The current dragged him and the fish back down stream a couple dozen yards from his and Bones' spot. Trudging towards the shore, the ranger heaved the massive Pike over his shoulder

Every part of him was soaking wet and a large bite mark on his leg was leaving a bloody trail behind him but he didn't care. He won. That's all that mattered to him.

"Ha! Yer gonna make a great fillet tonight, you ugly bitch!" cheered Thaelin dragging the mighty Pike to the shore.

The Pike fish were a rather aggressive and hearty breed of fish that swam through the rivers of the North. Roughly five feet in length and weighing almost 30lbs, the massive fish flopped on the shore. Its long muscular olive green body was speckled with yellow dots. Its snout was long and almost beak-like, similar to a salmon, the most terrifying about it was the teeth. Dozens of cone shaped teeth filled its massive jaw.

Thaelin dragged the fish far up onto the sand bank and went back to resting against the driftwood backrest. Words couldn't describe his enjoyment. Almost being drowned by a massive fish was a great thrill to him. His life was never boring. There was always going to be a greater beast just around the corner wanting to take a bite out of him.

The young man reached into his knapsack and retrieved a small leather flask. He took a quick swig of the strong smelling alcohol to celebrate his latest victory.

"Thanks for the help, Bones! Couldn't have done it without you." the ranger laughed sarcastically. "Here, drink up buddy."

Thaelin placed the mouth of the flask to the exposed mandible of the still fisherman next to him. The dark amber liquid washed over the bare bone and shriveled pieces of dried flesh still clinging to skull. The droplets of rum poured down the remains and soaked into the tattered pieces of cloth still worn by the cadaver. Thin bony fingers still cradled the old cane rod.

Thaelin grabbed ahold of Bones' cane fishing pole and reeled in the line. He baited the bare hook with his other half of worm and cast it out into the river. "Good luck buddy."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: A Torch in the Darkness

A dozen black spider web designed capes flapped like a raven's wing in the night. Their beady red eyes were locked onto the glow of a village at the foot of the mountain valley. Almost a half hour's trek away

The ash-skinned elves gestured to each other in their intricate sign language to ready themselves and their weapons for the raid. Twelve Drow lined up against the opening of their cave. The leader among them, a female with long stark white hair with two braids along the sides of her head and the rest of her hair braided into three ponytails in the back, looked over her troops. A snake headed whip clung to her belt. And a shining silver medallion of a spider with eight wiry legs, several ruby eyes, and a silver cobweb surface hung from her neck marking her station as a leader and master.

"Ready yourselves!" whispered the captain in their sub-terranean language.

The warriors licked their lips as they took their positions along the craggy cliff. It would be a short jog down the cliff-face before they begin their attacks. The warriors brandished their swords and loosened their joints. Many impatiently glanced back waiting for their commander to give the signal to begin the assault

One soldier, looked up and squinted at the brilliant silver light coming off the full moon above them. Not many drow from deepest parts of the Underdark would believe that there could be such a light that hangs in the sky.

The captain opened her hand and clenched it shut like she was cracking the shell of a nut. The warriors smiled wickedly as they leapt from the cliffside and slid down the mountain side. Their stances wide, feet moving along the loose pathway, once the ground underneath became firm, they commenced to a run. Their training taught them to always keep moving. A standing target, was a dead target.

At the base of the mountain was the lining of a forest. The sparsely dense cluster of trees gave the slenderly built raiders ample cover to hide behind as they advanced on the village.

An ugly dagger, fashioned at the hilt in the shape of a spider bayed for the sweet taste of Surface-dweller blood. The owner on the other hand, dreamt of the reward he would receive when he returns home with a good stock of fresh slaves. If he managed to capture a few surface elves, he could earn a generous sum for selling them to Lolth's priestesses as sacrifices. The promise of gold greatly outweighed his bloodlust.

Several log cabin buildings were built around a covered well in the center of the village. A communal corral on the east side kept the stock of dairy goats, horses, and mules that the denizens used to work the land. A large field of barley sat to the south of the village. In every cabin, a single candle light glowed from a window. All other parts of the cabin were dark. No doubt the farmers were fast asleep. Soon they shall all awaken to the bloody surprise of the evil invaders

Once they bordered the village, the drow crept forward, crouching low and hiding their swords and daggers, hoping the glare of the moon light wont give away their position. As she crawled toward the village on her belly, the captain's hands sunk into a thin layer of mud. The sticky dirt smelled funny. It was a dull pungent odor.

The warrior's eyes shifted between the visible light and the infrared spectrum. The bodies of sleeping goats and mules glowed in vibrant hues of reds, yellows, and greens. Once inside the village compound, the raiding party broke up into teams of two. They each stalked close to a cabin and readied themselves for the onslaught.

'Kill one from each household.' the order echoed through their minds.

Since the village was small, and no doubt the humans here were numerous, they would have to rely on intimidation tactics to make them submit.

Just before the captain could give the order, a crack from a breaking window caught their attention. Their eyes, still in the infrared spectrum, saw a bright white light shoot across to where the layer of mud was.

"_Rabhadh!" _the captain yelled, her eyes widened to resembling large rubies at the grave mistake she overlooked. A trap.

The air around the village snapped as a column of fire engulfed the perimeter around the village. the raiders wailed at the sudden bright light shuffled around them. Two of the warriors collapsed, trying to shield their eyes from the inferno. The captain unfurled her whip and barked at the warrior's

"_A__ ghàirdeanan!__A__ ghàirdeanan!__" _she said grabbing one of the men by the collar of his _piwafwi _cloak.

The long sharp moot of a horn, followed by two other horn calls, startled the raiders. Never have they heard such a thing from any of the other village raids around the mountain. The doors of the cabins they were about to breach, burst open with a shining armored warrior emerging forth. The flames of the perimeter reflected intensely off their armor. Three heavy armored humans took positions into the center of the village. their swords and axes honed to a refined edge.

"Defenders of the meek! Militant for the faithful! Slay these foul beasts!" ordered a blue haired woman as she lead the charge against the drow.

The blue haired Sergeant charged ahead, falchion swinging over-head. The curved straight edge slashed down severing the arm of a drow, its dark purplish blood splashed onto the breastplate of the holy warrior.

The second paladin, armed with a great axe came up behind the sergeant and swung his axe from the side into the stomach of another dark elf. It's limp body became stuck onto the hulking axe blade. Using the momentum he built up with the first attack, the man brought the axe up and then down onto the one armed drow, begging for mercy at the feet of the sergeant.

The captain, hissed at the sight of the humans. She drew her whip back and cracked it forward, wrapping the tightly woven leather fibers around the neck of the third paladin.. With a surprisingly strong jerk of her arm, she pulled the warrior over to the drow's side where three of the underlings began to assault the poor fighter

"Anissa!" screamed the sergeant. Her grip around her falchion tightened

The axeman and the sergeant charged towards their comrade. The axeman hewn another dark elf in half and buried his axe into the skull of another. The sergeant pulled the youngest of the three to her feet

"On your feet! You can rest when we are back in the barracks!"

"Yes Sergeant Harth!" screamed the young woman as she charged ahead and tackled a drow archer with her shield. She pinned the young drow under her foot and bashed the pointed edge of her shield down onto his neck. Over and over she slammed down the shield till the wretched thing's head was severed in a purple mess.

Varris squared up against two drow swordsmen. The dark skinned raiders sprung at her with lightning speed. Each fighting like the single head of a hydra. The sergeant used the width of her longsword to repel a two pronged attack from the duo. As she parried the attack, the sergeant knew she couldn't possibly win against two agile warriors at once. So, she pushed one away while attempting to grab ahold of the other. As fast as they were, she was only able to grasp the flailing edge of its _qiwafwi, _but this was all she needed to pull the pirouetting drow into the point of her sword. The other head of the duo dashed forward striking towards a blind spot against Varris. The long sweeping blue hair blocked out the ample striking area the drow fighter used to ambush the woman. Her blue eyes widened in surprise

As Varris fought the dark elves, her mind slipped back to a lifetime ago. A time when she had fought the drow in their home turf. It was just like now. Only not as dark, and she had the skills she lacked back then.

The drow jumped forward aiming the spider shaped blade of his dagger at the eye of the sergeant, but the foul beast was cut down by an incoming. Varris blinked quickly, snapping back into reality.

"You okay, Sergeant?" asked the axeman

Without a word the paladin leader gave the man a nod before rejoining the battle

Anissa twirled her sword into a reverse grip before she brought her blood splattered shield up to cover her chest. The young woman charged like an enraged bull at another archer. Just before impact the woman adjusted her weight behind her shield. The little drow felt the iron barrier strike his chest and front of his ribcage get pushed in. as the creature of darkness was flung backwards, it tumbled into the dirt and finally slid into the inferno barrier. It let loose a high pitched shriek as the man's body writhed from the flames.

A raider armed with two daggers rushed Annisa in hopes of using his smaller stature and faster movements against the heavy armored beast. He grappled the warrior's shield as he slashed wildly at the woman's face.

_-Slick-_

A fine trickle of blood rushed down Anissa's check as she growled at the grinning drow. Anissa flourished her sword over her head and brought the edge down into the neck of the still grimacing drow.

Several torn or dead raiders lay in the center of the village. Their blood darkening the ground. The three warriors wiped the purple blotches of blood from their faces. The remaining raiders couldn't help but quiver at the sights. Three humans, pitiful surface dwellers, slain their comrades with such ferocity and gory manner. It was terrifying to say the least. The final two drow looked to each other and unanimously bolted away. Leaving their commander to her own. A death back in the safety of The Underdark was sure to be a more merciful option than the rancor they faced.

The drow captain screamed as she unfurled her whip back and cracked it against the chest plate of the axeman. Despite being so heavily armored, he knew an attack like that could have pierced his heart. To the man's knowledge, drow were experts that had decades if not centuries of weapons experience under their belts, honed in an unhospitable world of death. He tried to think of a way where the Militiaman could fight at least fairly against the drow woman. When he heard the clank of his comrades armor come up behind him, the man smirked at the drow.

"You're in trouble now."

Varris strode towards the drow woman. She pointed her falchion at her foe and flashed the raider a snarl. The captain understood this gesture. In the back of her twisted and depraved mind she thought that the humans of the surface world may have a small sense of understanding honor.

Varris poised her sword into a defensive stance and waited. The captain begun to twirl the whip in the air the long snake like cord coiled above its wielder and hissed through the air. With a flick of her wrist, the black leather cord flung forward and wrapped itself around the sergeant's blade. Just as it tried before, the drow gave the whip a sudden powerful jerk trying to tear the sword from the paladin's grip.

"Die you scum!" Varris said tugging her sword back and pulled the captain into her. As she flew towards the human Varris swung an iron clad fist into the warrior's jaw. She then grabbed her dazed head and slammed it into the dirt.

The drow laid there: face bleeding, soldiers defeated, and mission failed. She knew it was over. Once they stepped foot out of their cave, Lolth had forsaken them to a cruel fate. She loosened her grip of the snake headed whip and called out her intention.

"_Bidh mi a 'gèilleadh"_

Although she didn't understand a single word, the elf spoke, a warrior knew the meaning. Varris sheathed her falchion to her waist and dragged her prisoner into position

"Damn, elves." Scoffed Anissa kicked the one that cut her cheek.

"I know." The axeman said dragging the burnt one into the pile of the dead. "Dark skinned, light skinned, they are all the same. Sooner they leave the North, the better. Hey sergeant, we taken prisoners?

"Nope"

The axeman shrugged as he grabbed the severed arm of the first of the fallen raiders and tossed it into the pyre. "Works for me."

The two women leaders looked at each other in total disgust for the other. Varris grabbed ahold of the spider medallion and jerked the chain from its master. She looked down at the vile hunk of silver in her gauntlets. In one powerful crunch, the rubied eyes of the silver spider popped out between Varris' fingers. She then let the crumbled up metal figure fall from her hand into the dust.

"You're heretic goddess won't save you." Varris said lining her sword up for a clear decapitation.

The drow captain smirked at the human. There was no fear in her eyes. There was something else. Something very familiar…Arrogance. In a broken form of the common tongue, the captain began a taunt that struck the sergeant like an arrow

"You fear…you fear, the darkness. It shall meet you. It shall end you."

Using her anger as a mask, Varris brought the blade across the drow's neck, but her aim was made off by the words.

"Sergeant, should we pursue the remaining drow?" asked Anissa

"The rats will go into their hole. We should go and burn their nest." Added the axeman

"No." Ordered Sergeant Harth "Let them go. They will die regardless. The Underdark will claim them soon enough…it always does."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: A Questionable Contract

A pitch-black beak tore at a piece of carrion. Once freed it tilted its head back and swallowed the chunk of rotting flesh down its gullet. A snap of a twig startled the creature to the presence of two adventurers looking at its ghastly meal with disgust.

The sight and smell alone made Hastur vomit her breakfast. The half-elf had seen many gruesome accidents come her way in the infirmary, but this. This was something entirely else. The noose around the man's neck twist and creaked as he swung in the air. A heavy gust of wind would make him twist more so the carnage carved on his back could be seen for all who happen to pass by can see. And for carrion feeders to take their fill of the cadaver. Just below him, sat a large pool of earth blackened with blood.

While the cleric was expelling her stomach, Thaelin pursed his lips and cursed under his breath.

"Fucking hell…" he said pacing around in a circle. Not much ever tugged at his heart before, but an atrocity like this was something that sickened his core terribly.

"What… what the hells _is_ that." Hastur paused to wipe the bile from her lips.

"No clue." he said twirling out his pistol crossbow and shooting the rope.

The corpse collapsed to the dirt in a squishy thud. The way he landed, made the abomination carved on his back visible for the two to see. The hanging man's back was sliced open in the shape of a 'T'. The skin was peeled away, looking like 'wings' with two greyish-purple fleshy sacks protruding from a carved opening in the muscle. A small metallic object located in the center of the man's stomach, glistened in the afternoon sun

"By the gods!" Gasped Hastur covering her mouth with the edge of her cloak. She took a small step forward and leaned to investigate the scene. The smell of rot was terribly overpowering.

"Those are his ribs." She said holding back a dry-heave. "Oh god! And those 'sacks' are his lungs!" the little elf had to quickly step away and vomit once more. "They broke his rib bones and pulled his ribs out his back! Who would do such a thing to someone?"

Hastur choked as the last of her breakfast made its way to the ground before her. There was one feature on the body that concerned her the most. Ligature marks on his dangling arms. That sign, combined with the carnage on his back, had showed a painful truth. The victim was tortured.

Theelin pursed his lips when he looked over the body and witnessed every gruesome piece of evidence when he looked over the corpse.

"When we go collect our bounty, we had better be getting paid double for dealing with this shit."

"Agreed." Hastur gasped between dry heaves.

Trying to keep his stomach from heaving forth, he leaned in close and wrenched the object from its bloated sheath. A foul smell of what was left undigested in the man's stomach seeped forth.

The ranger shook away the blood from the object and wiped away the remaining blood in the grass.

"Well…that's not good." The man said mouthing a curse word before pursing his lips and looking to the trees surrounding him.

Hastur glanced over at the man through her watery eyes. Her stomach still queasy from the expulsion. She recognized the little blade instantly. Clenched in the ranger's hand was a stag handled knife decorated with a copper spiral of coiled wire inlays along the pommel and guard. The crossguard itself featured copper petals resembling a lotus flower. Without a doubt, she knew the style of dagger. Elven by design.

The two followed the winding road to the Northeast of the Hold. The trees of the Hold grew larger and wider the further they got. A lumbermill would thrive in these parts, but at the same time such a business would be under threat against the rough habitat, fauna, and the politics of Hayaks strict decree towards

As she walked with her head low, she stumbled into Thaelin's back who was standing dead in his tracks.

"S-sorry…" she blurted before taking a staggering step back. The towering man reached towards his sword and bollock dagger. Thaelin just stood there, his head pointed up into the green canopy above him. His trained eyes scanned every limb trying to find something.

"What is it? Is something there?" the mage whispered.

"Yeah…" he said drawing out his short sword. "Okay, you can come on out! You suck at hiding!"

Hastur tried to look around her but to no avail. Even though her elven heritage has increased her senses to greater than the common man, she was still far less gifted than a trained ranger like her partner. She instinctively placed a hand on the hilt of her rapier and tried to hide herself behind the man's bigger stature.

The mass of overgrowth trees distorted all sound. If a bird chirped its song, the forest made the sound come from a different direction. Little tricks like these could be used, by its natives and those acclimated to the region, to well an effect for hunting and stalking prey. To the northeast of the road, came a rustling of large ferns and tall grasses along the forest floor.

"Are you the ranger we sent for?" came a voice from somewhere.

"No, I'm some other ranger hired by a bunch of hicks to come out to the middle of nowhere. What do you think?" retorted Thaelin

From the dense woods, came a beast of a man. An archer, judging by his bow, with a grizzled beard wearing a long coat made of animal furs. His cheeks, and eyes shadowed by charcoal dust.

"A mouthy fucker, aint ya? Ya Must be that Thaelin we heard of." What took ya? We sent out that notice days ago."

"Well it takes time to get to here from the city." Thaelin muttered sheathing his short sword. "So… Point us towards the damsel in distress or whatever."

"Us? What are you talking about? There's only the two of us here?" grumbled the mountain man.

Without a word, Thaelin took a step to the left to unveil his partner hiding behind him. The mountain man looked the little lady over quick and muttered a rather insulting observation "Yer friend is kinda short."

"Eh, she don't take up much room, besides. She's actually useful once in a while." Theelin put with a sarcastic smirk.

"Yeah, I pull most of the weight around here." Hastur retorted "Lets go." She sighed heading towards the mountain man.

Hastur swatted at a mosquito as she and the two woodsmen exited the pathway and took to the narrow game trail that brought the duo to a small camp nested in the edge of Hayak's Northeaster border to the wilds of Shaan Rulfet forest. The smell of campfire smoke was rather heavy in the air. A total of 20 or so men were working in the camp. Hammers pounded nails into wood planks and sawhorses suspended long newly ripped lumber planks that looked to stretch thirty feet of more.

In the middle of the camp was a large communal campfire. Iron cookpots made large vats of hearty stew and a large boar was skewered on a spike. Its meat sizzling the fat away and muscle made tender. Every time a dripping of the fat was cooked off, it dripped into the hot coals and a small flame flared up. The scent of the boar made Thaelin want to tear off a piece of meat and join in with the meal.

Hastur and Thaelin were brought to a long trestle table where the boss of the lumber camp, a fat man with greasy hair and smelled strongly of smoke, ate next to his laborers. The fat man wiped his dirty hands on his trousers before wiping his lips with his shirt sleeve. His lips smacked as he chew a piece of the roasted boar.

"Right then, is he the ranger?" grunted the pig of a man as he stepped away from the dining table.

Rather than hear another stupid remark, Hastur stepped forward and spoke for the man. "Yes. We caught your Notice in Hayak about a problem. That's Thaelin and I'm Hastur, sir. How can we help?"

"We sent fer one of our men to guide you here on the Old Road. You meet him? Where is he?"

Hastur pursed her lips and glanced over to Thaelin who let out a sigh before retrieving the small knife he found.

"Oh yeah, we meet him." He said handing the fat man the dagger, hilt first.

The fat man looked at the knife for a second and then slammed the blade into the table.

"Bastards!" he hollered "Those damn bastards killed Robert!" the lumber boss outstretched his arm and swiped his area clean. Sending trenchers, bowls and scraps off into the dirt. "Ya want to help us, missy? Start by killin' those fookin elves."

Hastur, nervously blinked when she heard those words "…e-excuse me?"

"Thems pointy-eared tree dwellers! I want em dead! Ya hear me? All dead! Bastards been fighting my men fer a good fortnight. How'd ya find him? Lyin' in a ditch was he?"

"He was hanged…" the mage struggled to say the rest of the words "..and his back was cut terribly."

This news set the boss's face to glow bright red with rage

"Fuck! Those fuckers put a Blood Eagle to his back didn't they? Those evil whoresons. I wont rest till them twiggers are all dead! DEAD! Ya hear me?"

Thaelin pat Hastur on the shoulder. He could see the cleric starting to get flustered from under her hood. He scratched at his beard and took a swaggering step towards the table. The ranger snatched a morsel of a boar shank from a trencher and spoke as he ate.

"Do you know…where we are?" He said between bites

"Aye, the forest. Keen observation, boy." Snorted the fat man as he gave the man a watchful eye on him.

"I'm not too good with maps, but even I know." He said pointing to the North with a greasy finger "That over there, is elf territory. You put your camp pretty damn close to their border. To be truthful I can't really blame them. I mean-"

The fat man's eyes narrowed onto the ranger "What's this? Are you an elf lover, are ya?"

"No, I mean, I may have fucked an elf once or twice, but I'm just saying-."

"Sayin'? Follow me. You should see what '_I'm sayin_'." The leader said taking the two to a series of tents close to the eastern edge of the camp

"This is what them bastards have been doing to us honest men." He said raising a curtain to reveal a makeshift hospital. The smell of body odor and blood wafted out of the lodge tent. The groans of the injured were painfilled. Rough and tumble men so hurt they were muttering for help from their mothers.

As she suspected, Hastur noticed the women of the camp were acting as nurses to tend to the injured men. On the ground she saw a pile of broken barbed arrows that were most likely pulled from the workmen's limbs. It was sickening to say the least.

From then, the fat man and Thaelin went off to discuss their job and the warning sign they stumbled upon earlier. Hastur stayed back to walk through the camp, as to better understand the lumber men. As a safe measure she tugged at her hood and made sure her ears were well hidden underneath.

During her walk through the camp she overhead the same conversations be spoken amongst the old and young when they sat and sharpened their axes:

"_Oi! What I wouldn't do to put this here ave in a dagger-ear's head_."

"_Aye. My family has lived in this hold since me father was but a lad. I've got as much of a right to this land as they do_."

"_Hey Tommon! You fought elves back in the day. What's it like_?"

"_Is like fellin an oak. One good strike to the side, and it'll crash before yer feet_." an old man chuckled.

The men at work squared up the fresh cut logs into uniformed beams, ready to be cut into planks, dried, and then put to use building the many uses the men needed. Towards the north of the communal fire pit, the ground was marked with ropes and stones to mark out the foundations of where their first cabin would be raised.

They were just as she thought, good men. Honest men, trying to earn their own.

As much as she hated the insulting words among the men, she felt compelled to take their side. These were indeed hardworking. Toiling tirelessly for a living in a dangerous land. Being harassed by their neighbors to the North for just trying to live. The idea of fighting her kin was troubling, but they had a job. Just like the men in the woods. And a job must be done.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Price

The fat mill boss dropped a small cloth coinpurse onto the table across from the ranger. The contents barely made a sound when they tapped against the wood surface. He then slid the pouch towards the ranger and gave the young man a toothy grin when he saw Thaelin's brow raised in curiosity.

Thaelin unfurled the drawstring to the pouch and emptied the contents into his palm. Three yellow stones gleamed in the candlelight of the boss' tent. The little nuggets were in all sorts of smooth shapes resembling common river stones but, lacked any small veins of other minerals mixed in. The ranger's eyes were spellbound on the little rocks. He couldn't even tell that a greedy smile took his lips.

"Solid gold." Nodded the boss "That there is yer startin' wage. Kill them elves, and you'll get yerself a hefty sum. My scouts found what they claim to be a village in the trees towards the Northwest. Well within our side of the border.

"Hastur ain't gonna like this job." The ranger sighed pocketing the stones

"Dont worry, lad. The law strictly says we have the right to retaliate if they invade our side."

"Alright. You got yourself a ranger." Thaelin said shaking the fat man's sweaty hand.

"Right-o. Oh, and if yer feelin like filling a second contract, there's a certain witch among them twiggers, bring her alive. And you'll get yerself a bonus."

Those magic words ignited a warm light in the ranger's belly. If he's being paid in gold, then a 'bonus' was surely going to be a great sum. More than he could earn in Hayak for a petty crook.

The fat man smirked at his newest employee. "Happy hunting, lad."

The ranger exited the tent and gathered his companion tending to a few overworked laborers

"Come on Hast. Jobs on."

The cleric took a final look around at the camp. While Thaelin talked she saw the men gather planks and start construction next to a long water trough. As if in unison, holes were drilled, wooden peg tapped home and oakum and pitch were added to the corners to make it water tight. The teamwork of the laborers building skills was amazing to the half elf.

The ranger and the lleric left the camp with their fur coated escort. The smell of smoke permeated their clothes. It was all the mage could smell when they walked. After a few yards, the sounds of labor became a distant lull. And once they were pointed towards their way to the Elven settlement, their guide slipped back into his position hidden among the undergrowth. It seemed that the second they left the smokey camp, the half elf was assaulted by mosquitoes.

Almost an hour later, the duo made their way Northwest passing through a break in the dense wood. The trees became sparse and they reached a rivers edge. A course sand bar outstretched into the river resembling a thorn on a bramble

The refreshing air was a great relief to the sweltering mage. Hastur gave a quick look around for a lumberman scout hidden in the wood before she lowered her hood. The cool air by the river felt wondrous now that she didn't have to wear that heavy cloak hood. But her relief was soon short lived a swarm of mosquitoes soon found their way to her cheeks.

Thaelin dropped his knapsack and unlaced his doublet. The man hopped on one foot as he tugged his boots off and curled his toes into the warm sand.

"Ahh! now this is relief." he sighed letting the gentle river current wash over his toes.

"So…what are we going to do?" Hastur asked shooing away another mosquito swarm

"Sit, rest, and chill. This seems a good enough place for camp."

"That's not what I meant." Hastur said tugging at the length of her cloak to cover hers eat as she sat in the shade next to the ranger. "I meant this job…"

"Dunno. But we can deal with it in the morning. These elves don't seem to be going anywhere. But its buggin me-"

"-Only thing bugging me are these damned bugs." Hastur muttered slapping her right ear when the high pitched whine of a mosquito passed by.

"How do you feel about this? These guys are encroaching on elf territory. And I don't _really_ think those loggers have the paperwork to be here."

"People are being killed. I can't stand for that."

"Will you be able to do it? If it comes to fighting the elves, I wanna know. Will you pull your sword?"

Hastur pursed her lips and remained silent for a while.

Seeing the half elf get troubled by the question, Thaelin chose to lighten the mood in his usual way. He unbottoned his knapsack and started rumbling through it.

"Drink?" he asked retrieving the small leather flask.

"Ya know all this drinking is bad for your health right?" she said taking the flask and sniffing the mouth of the little costrel.

The ranger smirked at his friend as her face contorted from just taking a small sip of the rum. "So is fighting monsters. Yet here we are…"

As he reclined by the river a memory wondered its way into his head. One that he thought might help ease Hastur's nerves more than the rum could.

"Hast, have I ever told you about the time me and some friends went on our first dungeon crawl?"

"No...I don't think you did." She coughed, handing back the flask. The spice flavored drink coated her throat as it went down.

"This was a long time ago. Had to be about 16-17 maybe. Anyways. Our archer picked up a line about a couple bodies from a graveyard started going missing. Little did we know the dungeon belonged to a necromancer."

Hastur's eyes started to go wide with intrigue as her friend unraveled the tale

"The four of us go on through the usual dungeon path: checking for loot, traps, and stuff, when all of a sudden Angus, the archer, starts floating all of a sudden. He goes up, say 20 feet before he hits the ceiling and starts freaking out. We are all laughing thinking 'hey, looks like we found a trap'. Monty, our spell caster, starts joking with him threatening to leave him there."

"Oh wow!" laughed Hastur this possible dungeon belonging to a necromancer.

"Angus gets so mad he starts pulling out his cock and pissed on us from up above." Chuckled the ranger as he reminisced from his youth.

Between bellyfilled chuckles, Hastur managed to ask "Did you help him down?

"Yeah. Varris took a rope from her pack and pulled the idiot down. He was fuming red after that. It was great. But that's not the best part.-"

At the mention of the warrior, Hastur's arm twinged slightly from where it was broken by the paladin. "I didn't know she used to be an adventurer…"

"Yeah. She was with me since our little party began. If ya wanna piss her off tell her about 'the game'."

"The game…?"

"After tossing a few stones through the area. Monty, our wizard, deduced that it was a 'slowed time' thing with an after effect of levitating anything heavier than about 10 pounds. Once we figured we can get around it, Angus got the idea to play a game of roulette with it. He pulls out his cock again and starts beating off." The ranger struggled to say from cackling so hard.

"OH MY GOD!" Hastur yelled, face turning red from the sudden plot twist

"After he finishes we start running around the column watching this load fly through all slow like. And Varris takes the load right to the fucking face!"

The cleric fell backwards with laughter. Her sides started to hurt. No matter how hard she tried to

"Worst part was, my dumb ass, tells her 'hey _Myshka_, after we leave here, how about we go to a bath house and you can get a real facial'. She chased me all the way through the dungeon and next thing I know, I bump into the fucking necromancer."

"Re-Remind me to never go in a dungeon with you." Hastur laughed while trying to regain her composure

"Yeah. We didn't get much loot. Just some lousy books and a health potion or two. Nothing great."

Once the laughter subsided Hastur laid back on the shoreline. She watched as the clouds floated by against the crystal blue afternoon sky. The cleric felt the warm sun's rays on her as the rays broke through the tree canopy. She felt she could understand why the loggers wanted to stake their claim here and why the elves would want them to spoil such beauty here. This was a peaceful place. All except for the damn bugs.

The duo's merriment was broken when the slapping sound of a fish breaching the river took Thaelin's attention. The ranger shuffled through his knapsack again, but couldn't find his tin box of tackle and line.

"Damn! Must have left it at home." He mumbled as he rose to his feet. "Hast, you're about to see what a real badass ranger looks like." He said rolling up his

"What? You have a ranger friend coming to meet us?" she smirked to herself "What are you doing, idiot?"

"Fishing." He said rolling up his left hand and wading out into the center of the river. I'm going to catch us dinner like a true badass. With my bear hands."

The cleric rolled her eyes "You're not going to catch anything like that."

"Yes I am"

"No, you're not. You would have better luck with using a sharpened stick or something." Hastur retorted slapping another blood sucker on her neck

"Why do you have to doubt me all the time? I'm an expert fisherman. Just because of that, the only thing you're going to eat tonight are your words."

"Whatever, idiot."

Thaelin stalked his way through the river and found the fish that caught his eye, a river trout swimming in front of him. He slowly moved himself to where he was standing over the fish and his his hands ready to go in for the kill. As fast as an arrow, he clamped his hands around the slick body of the fish. Just as he tried to pull it to the surface, he felt the fish squirm and escape his grasp

"Damn it!"

"Told you." she mumbled under her breath The half elf shook her head at the sight and swatted at another mosquito against her neck.

She looked down at where the water met the sand when something odd caught her eye. A shining little rock. The mage dug out the rock from the sand and her face lit up.

"Thaelin…"

"Shut up! You're scaring them away with your negativity" The ranger said scanning the flowing stream for the shadow of his next prey.

"No, Thaelin. You gotta see this." She said fining a second stone not far from where she found the other yellow stone.

"Shut it! I can do this."

"Ouch! Son of a-" the last bug bite pierced the mage's skin a tad more painful than the last few. She rubbed at the sore spot and felt something strange. Something like a twig with feathery fluff lashed to the end.

"Thaelin!" she managed to say before feeling her tongue go numb.

"Fuck off Hast!" he said stalking another fish in the current. He cautiously approached the second fish he kept his hands wide as to not alert the thing of any danger. Inch by inch, he crept closer and closer until he could almost touch it. Then like a viper, he clamped his palms around it and scooped the fish to the surface.

"Eat your fucking words, bitch!" the man laughed as he started making his way to the shore. Just as he glanced up from his mighty catch, his mouth was left hanging when he saw Hastur drop to her knees face planting into the sand.

"Oh shit!" he growled dropping his catch back into the water as he ran to grab his sword belt by his knapsack

the ranger scanned the tree line searching for any foes but found none. His shilled eyes and sense of smell failed to find anything that could have been from an attacker. But he did hear something. It was faint. Soft as a whisper, but rather foreign to him. The way it struck his ears, made the sound something like a song. A beautiful song.

Just as she had, a small pin prick struck his neck. His fingers felt the dart when he scratched at the injection area.

"Shit."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Conflict

The gentle hum of a maiden's song guided Thaelin out of his deep slumber from the hands of the tranquilizer dart. Thaelin gently opened his eyes to the most wondrous sight. Not a grand view of a country side, nor a pile of riches, but a woman's bosom inches from his face. The maiden continued with her song and dabbed a wet cloth to his face.

"Have I died and gone to heaven?" he muttered to himself grinning at the heavenly sight.

Her hair was a lighter shade of brown with two curled strands that fell down across her cheeks. The woman's skin was a beautiful tan color with faint freckles on the bridge of her nose. Two hazel brown eyes looked down at his cocky grin. Two sharply pointed ears poked their way out of her silken hair. She was one of the prettiest elves he had seen in a while. She wore a green gown with red sleeves and flares sleeves. The neck of the gown was loosely buttoned and allowed the ranger to catch a glimpse at her charms underneath.

The ranger smiled at the maiden as he began to stir up from his nap. The sight of a beautiful face after a deep sleep was a welcoming sight.

"_Bí cúramach__, a dhuin uasaili_." The elf woman warned

Thaelin rubbed his eyes and rubbed his neck where he felt the dart pierce his neck.

"Ah shit. Elves don't know the common tongue, damn. Um…" he said trailing off trying to find a way to communicate with the elf woman.

"I…am…Thaelin." He said patting his chest. "Do…you…understand…me?"

The elf woman smiled at the man as he attempted to communicate with her. Thaelin frowned when the elf showed no sign of understanding him

Thaelin looked around the room as he awaited an answer. The room looked to be a rather small living area. A wooden plank floor with plank walls appeared were made from the same type of wood as everything else. Deer antler sconces held beeswax candles that had been burned to mid length. A futon mattress under him, a short dining table with four green cushions were placed around it. A thick wool blanket served as a door to the cabin, Evening sunlight shone through rawhide paned windows.

"Do…you…know…where…my…friend…is?"

Thaelin thought long and hard. He lived with a half elf for two years and heard the elven language spoken only a few times. But now. He couldn't remember any of his friend's words. Now when he needed her the most. But there was one word he tried to pronounce he heard Hastur saw the most. A word he thought meant 'friend'.

"Shit. Uh what's that word… _S-oi…thin bag. _No wait…_baeg_! _Soithin baeg." _he said pointing to himself. "_Soithin baeg_"

The maiden chuckled before placing a hand to her lips to hide the smile.

"Do…you…" he said pointing to the elf woman "know…where… my… _soithin baeg_…is?"

"Why…are…you…talking…so…slow?" the elf said breaking her silence much to Thaelin's dismay.

His mouth fell agape "Wait? You can understand me?"

"Yes. Many elves do understand the Common tongue." She answered with a giggle

"Oh. Well can you help me find my friend? She's about this high, yellow cape, pretty moody."

"She is in the other cabin. Come, I will take you to her"

The woman said rising to her feet and leading the man outside the cabin. When she draped the blanket aside, Thaelin couldn't believe his eyes. Their cabin was nestled amongst the trees. Other cabins were concealed between the grand oaks of the forest and connected between rope and plank bridges. From his vantage point, he could spot a good village's worth of elves going about their day. A rigging of blocks and tackles were hung next to the doors with a willow basket tied to one end. Presumably to interact with those below

"_OH SHIT!"_

An overwhelming uneasiness struck the ranger as he cautiously took a step backwards into the cabin and placed two firm hands ahold of the rope railings. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to keep from looking down and drive the dread from his mind.

"Scared of heights?" the maiden giggled as she watched the ranger cower back in the cabin. His legs wobbling under him.

"No. just that sudden stop at the bottom." He said dryly trying to play off his growing fear He let out a sigh before trying to put his fear aside. "Fuck…"

"_Shit."_

One grueling step at a time, the ranger put one foot in front of the other. He tried simply looking up but when he saw the canopy only a few feet from him, it reminded him how close he was exactly.

"_Don't look down, don't look down…I fucking hate this place."_

In what felt an eternity, the man made it safely across. He felt a large wave of relief was over him when he felt the solid floorboards underfoot. Much to her amusement, his guide smiled at the accomplished ranger.

"_I hate this place!"_

"She is in here." The woman said draping the blanket covering away.

Much like in the previous cabin the dwelling shared many similarities. A low table with six cushions, stag antler sconces, and a cushion futon with a certain half elf asleep

"Hast, wake up. I need your elf know-how." He said giving his partner a tap on the shoulder. When she didn't stir, he started to get worried. "Hast! Hastur! Wake up! What did you tree huggers do to her?"

Upon hearing the mention of the slur, the maiden's warm smile soon disappeared. "Worry not. She is alive. The poison the hunters used was solely meant to weaken. Not kill. To be truthful Im very surprised that you awakened as fast as you did."

"What can I say, I have a pretty high constitution." He said rubbing at where he felt the dart pierce his neck. "And poison is still poison, lady. Not cool. Now where's our gear. I'm starting to get cranky without my sword."

"Be patient. Soon we shall speak as friends." She said taking her leave outside the cabin.

Thaelin scratched at his beard as he let out an annoyed sigh.

"I'm starting to know why guys hate elves." He said under his breathe "_Assholes_."

Almost an hour later Hastur started to show signs of coming out of her sleep. Her eyes flashed into a sickened sneer. The first thing she saw when she came fully awake Thaelin was sitting next to her watching the door.

"What in the Nine Hells happened?"

"We got drugged and kidnapped." Grumbled the ranger. "Elven assholes. Present company excluded, of course." He added with a shrug.

Hastur swatted the man in the back for the remark.

"Thank the gods you're okay. We seriously need your negotiating skills, Hast." The man exhaled trying to come up with ways they could possibly escape the elven compound without incident.

The blanket door swooshed open letting in the last beams of setting sunshine. An envoy of three armed elven men and one woman entered the cabin. The tan skinned men looked to the duo with an annoyed contempt. Two carried each of their belongings under his arms. Two of the men stepped aside and made room for the woman elf to emerge and glide forth.

"Greetings." Said the woman with an absolutely calm yet authoritative demeanor. "I am Acquiel Liadon." She said humbly lowering her head.

The elf woman looked to have the highest position amongst the group walked in with her hands cupped together. Every step she took was as swift and graceful as the wind itself. Her long hair shined like gold. And her eyes like emeralds. To call her gorgeous was a gross misuse of the term. To the ranger, it seemed nothing compared close to her beauty.

"Please sit. We shall have a meal prepared for you." She said gliding towards the low table and kneeling on the cushions.

The other guards took up seats next to their leader and waited for the ranger and cleric to accept their forced invitation. Without a word, Hastur took a seat across from the woman and Thaelin on her left

Hastur tucked her auburn hair behind her ears to better show their tapered shape and that she was akin to the leader. In a brief second, Acquiel gave the woman a peculiar look. It was too quick to read, but one would hope it was a look of interest, and not suspicion.

Just as the cleric predicted, one of the men, with long black sideburns, leaned over to whisper something to their leader.

"You are Half Blood?" the Elf leader asked failing to hiding the smallest amount of intrigue in her tone.

"I am." Hastur put. She fortified her front by answering directly in hopes not to be dismayed by their talks. Even amongst some of her kin, there was no telling as to how the Wood Elves and their High Elf leader. "I am Hastur Prynn. And my associate, is Thaelin Fridulf. We humbly greet you, noble lady."

Fully surprised by the half blood's speech, Acquiel lowered her head and accepted their introductions

The blanket door opened and three youthful elf maidens entered carrying trays for a bountiful feast. A trencher of a fat roasted chicken was placed before the ranger and the cleric. Vessels of dried raisins, sweetmeats, and steaming baked yams were placed about the table. A clay goblet was set before each of the diners. Large bowls of salad greens were placed before the high elf and her retainers.

When a fair haired maid brought forth a decanter of wine to the guests, Thaelin flashed the young elf a flirtatious wink and a smile. Her face blushed red almost making her overfill his glass. The group ate in silence, ever so often did the guests look around the room and see the retainers watching their every glance. Their suspicion was paramount towards the guests.

Near the end of the meal, Thaelin tore at the scraps of the chicken in search for the beloved wishbone. The three elves watched curiously as the human savagely tore at the remains for the y-shaped bone. When he found his beloved bone the man wiped his greasy hands on his trousers. He grabbed ahold of one end of the bone and presented the other end to the retainer across from him.

"Hey bub, make a wish." he said with a cocky smirk

The elf man looked at the man and to his comrades in utter confusion. Even the elf woman proved unaware of the custom.

Haster rolled her eyes at her friend and explained the childish tradition to the hosts in the Elven tongue.

_"It's a game amongst the humans. Each person grabs one end of the bone and makes a wish. Then the two pull the bone apart. When it breaks the person with the largest piece left, their wish comes true."_

Understanding the act, Acqueil gave her permission for the man to play along with the custom. He grabbed ahold of the other end of the bone and mumbled softly in Elvish.

Thaelin muttered to himself and when the two were finished they each gave an agreed nod to begin tugging on the bone

-Snap-

Almost poetically the bone split evenly down the center. Hastur let out a sigh of relief despite the peaceful atmosphere, if that game would have gone another way, they could have been in much worse trouble.

Acquiel wiped her hands on a napkin and cupped her hands together." And now we 'get to business' as the humans say. Why are you here?"

Just as Hastur was about to begin their deliberations, Thaelin tried to chime in.

"Hey, this is all a huge misunderstanding. If you can give us back our gear we will make sure to never come back. I promise"

"Do you?" she said with a superior snide to the man, "_C__uardaigh na málaí_."

As commanded Acquiel's underlings shook the contents of the two adventurer's bags and trifled through looking for anything incriminating. In two separate piles, the retainers looked over every article they had.

In Hastur's satchel, they found: a clay inkwell, a red leather bound notebook, a waterskin, a few beeswax candles, a block of sandalwood incense, a small pin-hole lantern, a brass ink quill, and a cloth bag of a half a loaf of rye bread.

And in Thaelin's knapsack they found a bundle of hemp rope, a waterskin, a rolled up grey wool shortcloak, a cloth bag of dried meats, the flask of rum, and kinderbox with a steel striker, a shard of flint, and tow;

One of the retainers opened the cork of the small leather flask and sniffed the spout. His face contorted when the foul smelling liquid hit his nostrils. The unsuspecting elf took a small swig of the mixture and the second the alcohol touched his tongue he spit it out

"Hey! That's a waste of good booze!" complained the ranger

"Are you satisfied with the search?" Asked Hastur rolling her eyes at her companion

"Yes. Now then, tell us. Why are you here? Are you sided with the thieves?" The High Elf questioned, her fingers tented as she waited for a reply

"We are sided with nobody. And the men of the logging camp are within their right to be this close to the border. You are the ones that attack them for no cause?

"No cause? They are bandits and thieves. They must be dealt as such. It was an accord made when our people and the Duke of their land made peace."

"I'm sure, Lady Liadon, a peace can be made between the groups. If you invite the men here, talk to them, an agreement can be forged.

Tactfully changing the subject, the gold haired elf began to question the two's reason for being here. "When my scouts found you, you were at the same river they had been stealing from. Where you trying to steal from it as well?

"We found the river by accident. And what could they steal that is so precious to you? The water and fish belong to all creatures." Hastur declared before she remembered what happened before the darts knocked her unconscious. Those little yellow rocks

Acquiel smirked when she read the realization on Hastur's lips "The river runs north into the territory of our people. We are an outpost placed here to ensure no vagabonds enter the river and try to take the precious materials from our land-"

Thaelin, pursed his lips. He remembered back to the payment he received earlier from the camp. Those three gold nuggets. If they found them in his coinpurse, he was certainly doomed.

"My lady, I had no knowledge of the loggers ulterior motives. I swear it."

When Acquiel glanced over at Thaelin, she noticed how is eyes darted away. He was looking at something. She kept her eye on him as she talked. And he fell for her trap

Thaelin's eyes glanced over at his belongings, then at the leader.

"_Cuardaigh an sparan mona_."

The elf Thaelin had made a wish with cut the leather pouch free from the ranger's belt and dumped the contents on the table in front of Acquiel. The Wise Woman sifted through the pile of silver and copper coins until she found them. Three small nuggets.

She gave the two a prideful smirk as her guards yelled obscenities at the two. Calling them everything including thieves and murderers. The leader raised a pious hand to silence the two.

"The evidence points against you, Hastur Prynn and Thaelin Fridulf. Pray tell, how do you think you can clear your names from this?"

The ranger pursed his lips and tried to devise a plan to weasel his way out of this.

"Listen lady, they paid us to kill your cronies and bring _you_ back to them. Obviously that ain't gonna happen. So lets just wash our hands of this mess and we can be on our way out of this damn forest, okay?"

The wise elf tented her fingers in thought. A devious smirk took her alabaster-like face "We shall see…"

Smoke rose from the logging camp at first light. The men of the camp lifted yet another completed trough from the saw horses and made piled it next to the others.

"Well done lads, four more and we will have enough built to redirect water to the camp." the fat mill boss said with a hearty boast. He rubbed his hands together when the thought of all that precious gold was waiting for the taking.

The rhythms of hammers and saws came to a gently lull before they stopped all together. Every man in the camp stood and watched the two adventurers enter their camp. this time without their fur coated guide.

"I don't see the witch with ya!" grumbled the fat man.

Thaelin took the gold nuggets from his coinpurse. He pursed his lips as he bounced the tiny stones in his hand before tossed them at the feet of the boss.

"I cant believe I'm saying this, like seriously. I really can't believe I'm even saying this, but you can take your gold and shove it up your ass. We're not killing any elves.."

The mill boss gave a low growl. He hoisted up his belt around his fat belly. "Well. That's some bad news lad. Cant say the boys here are none too happy to hear that. Arent'cha, lads?"

"NO!" the mob said circling around the two.

Thaelin and Hastur stood back to back watching as the crowd around them began to produce axes, dirks, and a bow or two. In unison the two young adventurers unsheathed their swords. They stood back to back, moving their heads back and forth trying to watch for their first attacker.

"I really hope you didn't waste your wish." Hastur put nervously watching the angry mob.

"To be honest, there were a lot of pretty elves in that camp. kinda upset I didn't use my wish on one of them." Laughed the man as he flourished his sword in his hand

"Well then, you better wish we don't die."

Chaos erupted around them.

A few of the men armed with axes charged at the duo. Thaelin blocked high with his short sword and thrusted his dagger into the man's belly. He kicked the skewered man into another. As the third can in with an axe strike aimed at the ranger's head, Hastur slashed at the man's arm and focused a malignant touch spell into her free hand. She tapped the man in the chest and watched as he fell to the ground writhing in terror as a magic disease ate away at him. His skin turned green and puss filled boils formed before covering him in a foul slime.

Her cloak fluttered as she performed a pirouette to dodge a knife thrust. With her free hand, she wrenched the blade free and punched the attacker in the face with the thick wire guard of her rapier. Thaelin grabbed the dazed man by his bruised wrist and threw him to the ground to restrain him. The ranger twirled his bollock dagger in hand and threw it into the neck of the next incoming man. He fell on his right knee and broke the pinned man's neck.

Blood spouted out of the fatal wound. The logger took a few more staggering steps at the ranger before collapsing to his knees. Terror marked his face when he felt the dagger be twisted and pulled free as the ranger reequipped the vulgar looking dagger.

Hastur produced a magic barrier to separate an enraged logger before using the aetherial shield as a ram to push him away so she could thrust with her rapier. Two had fallen by her sword and shield technique. But in her focus, she became distracted by the men coming towards her front, that she forgot to check her blind spots.

-SMACK-

A stout tree branch cracked against her flank, knocking her to the ground. A blonde haired man loomed over her his foot raised ready to stomp the life out of the mage. The mage closed her eyes when she felt the breeze of the man's foot coming down. The viscous man smiled at the cowering woman before him. But his joy was stolen when a sharp ache took his chest. A blood covered sword blade protruded from out his core and he felt his body give way.

"On your feet!" yelled Thaelin pulling the mage up.

Her hood slipped off her head. When the waves smoke receded, the remaining would be attackers caught sight of her ears. This made the mob the even more enraged.

"An elf!"

"A spy!"

"A spy in our camp! kill her!"

Several axe men charged forth. Baying for the blood of the elf that walked their camp. They each growled slurs at the young mage.

Thaelin parried one of the strikes and caught the haft of an axe between his sword and dagger. He struggled to keep the bearded axe blade from bearing down onto him. Seeing his foe was attempting to repel the attack, the young man released one hand from the axe and grapple the ranger.

Three other men ran forth towards Hastur. The mage produced another magic barrier, but it wasn't enough the men snarled like feral hounds. Eyes blackened with fervor. Hastur pushed back the men a good few feet and recited her next spell in haste.

This was just the latest spell she learned from the Mosther Superior. She had never practiced the spell prior and had only a basic understanding of its workings. But as dire as the time was for them, she she could use any spell to her disposal. From her palm came a jet of intense fire aimed at the three men and took them in an overwhelming plume. A single tear fell down her cheek when the attackers were engulfed by the flames. She watched in terror as their dark silhouettes wailed in the inferno.

"MAMA!" yelled one of the men roasting alive "HELP ME…MAMA!" he managed to say before the flames took him.

The screams were silenced by the roar of the flames. And Hastur watched the burning bodies of her victims with absolute horror at what she had done.

"_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"_

Thaelin tumbled as his combatant grabbed around his throat. The ranger struggled to push the man away. Feeling the full weight of the assailant, he pulled the man into a headbutt. Again and again he bashed his forehead into the strangler till the man's nose was caved in. The ranger crawled to his feet and watched the smoldering remains across from the mage. He smeared the blood across his forehead and panicked after his friend.

"Hast! Hast!" Thaelin said trying to get his partner's attention "Way to go Hast, Roast these bitches and we can make a break for it!"

"_No"_

"No! Not again. I wont do it. I wont do it!" The mage said falling to her knees. I-I never meant to do this!

"Well there's too many of the bastards were running out of options!"

Thaelin looked around them. The smoke wafted around the camp. It stung his eyes and concealed the true numbers of the attackers around him. This was just a lull in the combat. They knew they were outnumbered and there was no way they could survive this alone. He grit his teeth at cries of the unknown men still left standing.

"Shit! …Broken arrow! Broken Arrow!"

The mage wiped away a tear and let out a sigh of relief before nodding in agreement. She sheathed her sword for a split second and waved her hands to cast her next spell. With a quick incantation a call of brilliant red light formed in her hand and was cast into the sky. Once the orb went well past the tree canopy, it burst into a dazzling display.

The two watched around them as the waning number of lumbermen prepared for their next assault. Low hoots and hollers bolstered the loggers for one last swarming strike.

"Bring me their heads!" yelled the lumber boss pushing his men forward

Hastur turned to a fluttering sound, like a swarm of song birds flapping their wings, coming from above them. She outstretched her produced a domed shield around the two. When a few of the loggers made their way to the barrier, they were met by a shower of arrows. The men fell like lapping waves. Not a single man less than several arrows poking out of him. Those left dying wailed in agony.

The cleric lowered the dome and covered herself with her hood. She couldn't bare the sight of the carnage

Among the pile of the dead, the lumber boss crawled out from his hiding place under the bodies of a couple of his own men. A single arrow pierced his wide arms.

"You-You will pay! Ya hear me?" the boss threatened limping towards the two, but tripped over the mass of the dead and dying. "You damn elves! You will die, all of ya! Damn you twiggers! Damn you all the the deepest pits of the Nine Hills"

Thaelin growled at the insistent behavior. Even after losing everything, the man still fumed with such hatred.

"Hastur, you want the honors?" Thaelin said proffering his sword to the mage, "I say we carve some bacon out of this fat pig." he dryly declared with a wicked smile.

"No. I'm done. I'm done with all of this."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 20: The new addition

The glow of an oil lantern guided the huntsman through the old growth. The man's aged hands shook as he used to haft of his spear to support his steps.

"Come out you demon!" he called, holding his spear close

The first of the autumn leaves crunched underfoot of his heavy gait. The huntsman cradled his spear to fidget with the buttons of his overcoat with one hand. The chill of the Fall season was starting to take hold of the land. And with it, many beasts were starting to prepare themselves before hibernation is to take hold. This included those of the darkest depths that plagued Kessier Forest

In the darkness of Kessier, everything seemed to take a different light. Sounds seemed amplified, shadows more ominous, and the path obscured. A cracking twig sent an alarm to the man's soul. His old heart wavered when the eye shine of a timid rabbit leaped out from its barren just to startle the huntsman.

The man walked bow legged as he pointed the spear towards the edge of his line of sight. The light from the lantern started to fade and the man scurried to try and raise the wick. In his panic he failed to notice the long dark claws slice his neck and face from ear to ear. The oil lamp crashed to the forest floor and the little flame became doused in the fresh blood of the huntsman. His screamed turned to a gargle in his blood as the beast began its savage feast.

"WAKE UP HASTUR!

The young mage shrieked as she leaped from her bed and fell over the edge onto the floor. In her alarm she found herself tangled in her blankets. The mage cursed as she found no actual danger other than having a jackass roommate

"Thaelin? ...What in the Nine Hells is wrong with you?" the mage said rubbing the sore part of her head.

The cleric shivered from the early autumn chill. She wrapped herself in her blanket and tried to make sense of the rude wake up call. But she received no answers. Her roommate was bouncing around the room going back and forth stuffing hunting accessories into his knapsack.

"Hurry, Hast. We got a deadline. We have to go! Now!"

Hastur let out a long yawn and muttered to herself. "Thaelin, chill! You're starting to freak me out. Tell me what's going on."

"Got a job. And we got to hurry!"

The ranger paced around in a circle trying to find the last of his kit. "Shit! Where is it? Shit, shit, shit…"

Hastur staggered to her changing screen and got dressed. Much to her surprise she found that her roommate had already laid out fresh clothes, her satchel and rapier were all set out for her. Something was surely afoot. And she was going to be roped into whatever scheme he was up to.

"Thaelin, you know I can't. Not since the last time I went on a job." She said with a sorrowful tone looking at her hands. It was almost a month ago and she can still feel the heat from that fire spell eating at her.

Unbeknownst to her, the ranger paid no attention to anything she had just said. He was too focused on finding his precious accoutrement. The man's nervous frown elated when he suddenly remembered where his final piece of equipment was. He dived under his bed and laughed when he found what was lost.

Hastur stared with concern as the man grabbed a long metal chain and dragged the most wicked looking contraption she had ever seen in her life. Attached to the chain were two crescent shaped metal jaws with large shining teeth all along the curve. Two long metal bar springs were attached to both sides of the jaws. She could faintly spot signs of dried blood all along the teeth and jaws of the contraption. The ranger had an oversized evil smile at the equally oversized hunk of steel.

"Ah, Big Bob! We're going to have so much fun with this." The man belted on his sword belt, slung on the knapsack, and hauled the large trap over his shoulder "Okay, Hast. Lets go."

Inside herself, Hastur wanted to protest the venture. She felt unsure of herself. But seeing how persistent her friend was about going out on another adventure, perhaps she should go through with it. She grieved for the men she hurt. But she couldn't find penance for her sin. Some fresh air, and some 'fun' might be what's needed for her. And along the way, a hope at redemption.

The journey south of Hayak was a rather slow one. Hastur stayed back a few feet from Thaelin as the large steel trap swung wildly over his shoulder. She felt rather uneasy looking at the device. And when she did look at it. One question itched at her:

'_What is he hunting that needs such a massive thing to catch it?_'

The South Road of Hayak snaked its way through the dark and concerning forest. The leaves were starting to take a mix of yellow and orange colors marking them ready for the Autumn. The Dirt path they followed was marked by a wooden postmark that read:

"_Kessier Village 10 Miles -"_

"_\- Hayak City 9 Miles"_

The ranger grinned at the sign. He was getting close. Thaelin looked to the canopy of the forest. Between the breaks in the trees he saw that the sun was sitting a little past its meridian He judged that by its position they should reach Kessier Village with plenty of time. Nothing was going to slow him down. Save for the distant whimpering down the hill from them.

"Lets go."

"Wait, do you hear that?" Hastur asked, trying to pinpoint the source. She pulled back her cowl just enough so her tapered ears can catch the strange sounds again

"Probably an injured animal. Not my problem." Thaelin put taking off for the village. The massive trap jingling as he walked away.

Hastur pouted her lips at the cold-hearted remark. "Well, it is mine, asshole."

She said wondering off the path to find the source of the cries for help. Those whimpers struck her soft heart like an arrow. The half elf slid down the steep incline till she came to a fallen log where the whimpers seemed to be coming from. Buried under a pile of leaves was the pouting face of an orange and white haired puppy. Hastur cautiously approached the little dog making sure not to make any threatening advancements towards it.

"Its okay. Its okay, little fella." She whispered as she knelt down to offer her hand to the puppy.

The pup growled at the mage at first, making Hastur move a step back, but offered her hand again. This time the little pup showed some signs of curiosity in the being before it. So it tried to approach the half elf. The rattle of a metal chain shocked Hastur to the core. It was a smaller version of one of those steel traps clamped around the hind leg of the little hound. Its wicked spiked teeth protruded into the hindquarter of the puppy. Dried blood stained the pup's coat in sticky clumps near the lacerations.

"Lets get that disgusting thing off of you." She said gently trying to approach the injured hound. When the puppy let her close, she grabbed at the the steel jaws and tugged them apart. They were clamped together much stronger than they looked and Hastur felt so terrible for the young thing when she saw the amount of blood on the ground around the injured leg. Only a monster would leave a contraption out for something so meek to get itself hurt by it.

On one end of the trap was a long bar that she deduced was the spring to cause the jaws to snap shut. The mage placed her boot on the bar and the jaws opened right up. She scooped the little puppy away and let the menacing jaws of the trap close back up. Purely disgusted by the idea of such a contraption, Hastur threw the ugly device further down the hill and went straight to tending to her patient.

She hugged the little hound close. She wasn't an empath, in the slightest sense, but as a care giver she did feel how the puppy must have felt. It felt cold, scared, and no doubt hungry. It wriggled its weak body trying to be free of the comforting grasp. The little dog was roughly around 2 months of age. And it clearly didn't have much interaction around humans.

"Here, let me help." She said hovering her hand over the hind quarters of the little dog. The pup let out a nervous growl when the hand was outstretched over itself. Those little amber eyes watched with terror as the land hovered over its injured leg. It let out a yip and tried to bite at the clerics paw.

"Its okay! I'm a friend." Hastur tried to explain after retracting her hand.

The half elf closed her eyes and muttered a short prayer "_Oghma. let me help this poor creature. Let it know I mean it no harm_."

When she finished her prayer, the mage mumbled the incantation to a healing spell. Her hand radiated a warm golden glow. She showed the little puppy that she there was no danger and went back to trying to heal the little dog. As she focused her healing magic on the cut, she felt a wet tongue lap itself against her cheek. The young pup propped itself against her lap and continued to lick its savior.

"Awe! You're welcome little guy." The mage laughed. She felt so relieved that the hound could finally trust her and felt much joy now that she made a new friend. "How would you like to come with me, huh?"

The puppy continues to nuzzle close to the healer. A gleeful grin took Hastur as she cradled the orange haired mutt in her arms back up the hill

Back at the signpost, Thaelin sat impatiently bouncing his leg, waiting for his partner to come back. He let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the yellow cloaked mage peaking up from the hillside.

"Took you long enough," Sighed the ranger "find your patient, doc?"

"Yup." Hastur answered proudly cradling the little puppy in her arms "Say hello to the newest member of our group." She said waving her cloak aside to show off the little puppy in her arms. "I think I will call him Freki."

"Freki?" Thaelin rolled his eyes at the sight of the little thing being cradled like a baby. But even a grizzled huntsman like him, was no match for the sight of a defenseless puppy. Thaelin tried to keep his gruff demeanor when he laid his eyes upon the adorable creature.

"You know Madam Glassgate won't allow pets at the boarding house, right?" he said offering a hand for the little mutt to sniff him. Once the pup licked at his fingers he proceeded to scratch under its chin and smirked at the joyful grin the pup made.

"That old crone can fuck off, besides, look at how cute he is? Come on Freki. Let's go find some dinner. You must be starving."

Thaelin hoisted his steel trap over his shoulder once more and as he lead the way for Kessier Village. He didn't take three steps before the little dog behind him started barking and howling wildly. Thaelin turned to address the proud dog owner who was franticly trying to quell the tiny beast.

"Will you please calm that thing?" Thaelin sighed lowering his head in disappointment at the new addition.

"Freki! Its okay, little guy." Hastur said gingerly holding the puppy. Freki glared at the man in front of him and started growling at him ferociously. Hastur looked on at what angered him so and soon understood. "Its your trap!"

"What?"

"I found him with his leg in a trap. No wonder he doesn't like that thing you're carrying."

"Well do ya mind leading the way then. Hes gonna scare away my catch."

The light of the afternoon sun illuminated the overcast sky. The air felt damp with the possibility of a light rain to come at any minute. With the two finally able to see Kessier Village they made their way to get their lodgings ready for the night. When they made their way into the town, Hastur found it to be a rather stereotypical 'dark village'.

A wooden palisade about 15ft high with a tower every 50 feet made up the protective barrier to Kessier Village. The walls and gates were made of oak timbers and a pitch was applied to seal any gaps in the walls. The pitch stained the timbers a dark hue and gave the protective walls a slight ominous look. The gates were kept open enough for a single cart to squeeze by.

The air around the old weathered buildings smelled of bad omens, the sky looked faintly overcast, and the villagers followed the duo with a watchful eye. Even Freki grumbled with what Hastur thought was a nervous mutter. The sound of a blacksmiths hammer and anvil tinged in the distance. A large covered shelter stored roughly a dozen cords of firewood next to the East of the village. There was no sweet smell of a baker at work. Only the smell of mud and what one could describe as fear.

When they got closer to the inn, Hastur noticed a rather odd thing next to the hitching posts. Something that surely didn't belong in such a strange village as this A large antlered stag, with complete tack: saddle, bridle, reigns, and saddlebags was hitched next to the other mares. Its grey and brown fur was neatly kept. And looked to be well trained to be calm around humans.

Sheathed diagonally from the cantle of the saddle, to the stirrup was a leather sheath to a long hafted polearm. Thaelin grumbled at the green oakleaf motif on the saddlebags. The thought of its owner didn't sit well with the man.

"Is-is that an elk?" Hastur said, so completely overwhelmed by the bizarre sight.

"Oh shit." Sighed Thaelin, stepping up onto the porchway to the inn. Disappointment weighed heavy in his voice.

"What's wrong?" Hastur asked hugging the puppy in her arms

"Competition…"

**Author's Notes:**

**Hey yall. So Just a heads up. Due to the whole quarantine craze going around, I want to assure you all. Heroes and Halfwits will keep on going. I have the next couple chapters all finished, only my internet access might be limited, so please bear with me. **


	20. Announcement!

Announcement

Well, everyone COVID has limited my internet access severely and I believe ill be back to posting content again. Its going to take a little while to get caught up. So more announcements will come with the chapters. So, in the mean time I just wanted to give a little PSA.

Special thank you to all that read this project thus far, and to my friends that have proof-read and reviewed my work. You all are epic! If y'all readers have questions for the story or about the authors, don't hesitate to ask. Just drop us a line via PM.

_Heroes and Halfwits _is a fan-fic series written by Mrs. Billie Frichette and co-authored by The Dude: Klyde Barrow. This story is based on the many misadventures between Billie and Klyde's characters, Hastur and Thaelin set in a fictional _Dungeons and Dragons_ inspired world. Locations, names, and in world social structures were all drafted by Billie herself and Klyde came up with the descriptions, combat sequences, and general dialog.

In the past few years. We have played a total of six campaigns, made dozens of characters, and shared thousands of laughs in our games. It was Billie's idea to take our shenanigans to the literary platform.

So now lets shed a little light on the world of_ Halfwits._

**Character Bio:**

Hastur Prynn

**Age**: 21 years old

**Height**: 5' 3" (160cm)

**Gender:** Female

**Race:** Half-Elf

**Class:** Cleric-Sorceress

**Alignment: **Neutral Good

**Appearance**: Shoulder length auburn hair, pale shin, bright green eyes, tapered ears, and slender body frame with similar features. Hastur wears a white long sleeved shirt, a tan buckskin leather bodice, brown leggings, bark brown leather boots, a thin leather and brass ring belt, and her signature yellow wool cloak.

**Languages: **The Common tongue and script, Elven Language and script, and one regional dialect spoken in The South**.**

**Family**: Hastur does have living family members: A mother, a father, and a sister. More on them will be revealed later on.

**Bio:** Hastur was raised in a boarding school at a young age in a region called The Lowlands. She spent almost every waking hour in the schools library learning: about the world and the magical arts. Her heart swelled when she would hear the stories about the glory to be found on adventures. Once night, when she felt she had a basic understanding of practicing magic, she packed her bags and hopped aboard a ship for the Northern coast and settled in the port city of Swansea where she met a ludicrous fellow and joined him in with his travels.

**Weapons**: Rapier sword, and an elven dagger

**Notes**: Hastur Prynn has all the physical features of a Human female, except for her tapered ears and emotional temper. She collects Elven items as a way of staying in touch with her cultural heritage she was forced to ignore in her formative years.

**Enemies:** Racists, Varris Harth, and most monsters.

Thaelin Fridulf

**Age:** 24

**Height:** 5'11" (180cm)

**Gender:** Male

**Race:** Human

**Class:** Fighter-Ranger-Rogue

**Alignment:** Chaotic Good

**Appearance:** Short brown hair, he keeps his beard to a thick stubble, pale blue eyes, average body build. Not very muscular, but still athletic. Thaelin wears a light grey long sleeved shirt, a brown leather laced doublet (he leaves the collar open), black trousers, a black sword belt, and dark brown leather boots

**Language:** The Common tongue and script, the Dwarven Language and script, and speaks the Halfling language.

**Family: **Thaelin has family that lives in the Dwarven area of The Craggs. He has a Father, a mother, a brother, and a sister.

**Bio: **Thaelin Fridulfalways enjoyed The Hunt. He cut his teeth as a ranger at a young age. Thaelin took up jobs being hired to clear out Dwarven mines that were infested with goblins or small monsters. As he got older he expanded his hunting skills with hunting people. Firstly, as a sell-sword, and then as a bounty hunter. In his vast travels he had met numerous people and took pride in the fact that he 'knows a guy'.

**Weapons: **short sword,bollock dagger (a vulgar looking dagger with a guard and handle resembling a pair of testicles and phallus), and a pistol crossbow.

**Notes: **The three things that best motivate Thaelin are: Wealth, Women and Wine. Usually in that order**. **His greed almost never guides his actions, but if the promise of gold is that high, he will most likely take the largest sum offered. Thaelin is regarded as the most informed man on the matters of Dragon kind. He can track, identify, and steal the dragon's horde in less time than others can.

**Enemies:** Lots of them. But to name a few: The Militia, The Duchess of Blackstone, Anha (the assassin), and most dragon kind.

Varris Harth

**Age:** 23

**Height:** 6'2" (187cm)

**Gender:** Female

**Race:** Human

**Class:** Fighter-Paladin

**Alignment:** Lawful Neutral

**Appearance:** Long straight hair dyed cobalt- blue with black roots fashioned in a draped undercut (her hair is combed over the left side of her head while the right side has a shaved undercut about an inch above her ear), sky blue eyes, and a tall muscular build. Varris often wears her plate armor when she is traveling or is about to embark on a task. She only ever wears her 'civilian attire' when she is off duty. This off duty attire consists of: A light blue long sleeved blouse worn with the collar open, brown leather trousers, black leather knee boots.

**Language:** Common language and script and the Undercommon language

**Family:** Varris' family died long ago when she was very young during a Drow raid.

**Bio:** After surviving a Drow raid, Varris swore revenge and dedicated herself to mastery of the sword. Along her path, she became a sell-sword and joined up with a group of adventurers-for-hire called The Misfits. It was there that she honed her skills with a sword earning her fame as a badass and toughest woman alive in The North.

**Weapons:** Falchion longsword

**Notes:** Varris uses her tall stature and use of heavy weapons to impose her foes and underlings. She is regarded as a Weapons Master in two kingdoms. She possesses great strength, stamina, and fortitude.

**Enemies:** Drow, evil monsters, Thaelin Fridulf,

The World:

The land is divided into holdings owned by Dukes and Duchesses, Mountain Lords, Chieftans, and Councils alike. There are 4 main regional territories: The North. The Craggs, The Lowlands, and The South.

The North is the land of Men and Elf. It borders The Craggs to the Northeast and the lowlands to the southeast. It is a boreal region to the Far North that hosts a vast majority of the elven population. After centuries of conflicts, the elves agreed upon an isolationist ideology, which the southerners took to great insult as they yearn for

The southern part of The North is controlled by the holdfast of Hayak. The Lands of Hayak consist of deep forested areas, rich fertile plains, and a sea coast to the southwest.

We have lots more planned to take part in this story. Klyde and I have written about three story arcs we have planned so far to commence once stuff in real life can get back to normal. Thanks for hanging in there, stay safe, and stay awesome

-Billie & Klyde


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: The Competition

The door to the inn creaked open and the strangeness inside amplified the duo's curiosity. On the outside, the inn was like any other building of Kessier Village. It was a wide two story building with a weathered grey exterior. The loose window shutters creaked eerily in the breeze and the overall structure was rather foreboding. But the inside was quite the opposite. The place was alive with the sounds of merriment. The smell of cooked foods welcomed them. The entry hallway was lined with racks for cloaks and hats and cubbyholes here aligned for keeping a person's accessories while they stayed.

A sign in the common language was hung over head that read '_Please leave all weapons here_'

Thaelin and Hastur shrugged at the sight of the tavern room. It was a frantic sight for the senses. The delicious smells of fresh foods, the mob of people, the loud frenzy of music, and the overwhelming smell of body odor. Hastur made sure keep her hood low and held onto her new puppy as they made their way through the crowds to the bar counter. She didn't want the poor thing to run off and get crushed underfoot.

They made their way to the bar where a barkeep was busy at work filling tankards of frothy ale. Thaelin licked his lips at the sight of the ale. This was the longest he had traveled without some form of alcohol in his system. But he had to keep a level head as to be ready for his job. Hastur looked across the dimly lit room. In the back corner, the hum of a violin playing wildly, and a penny whistle followed suit. A troubadour was even singing along as he made his ways around the inn. It was a cozy comfort to have minstrels in a quaint setting such as this.

The man looked in the corners of his eyes and tried to find the owner of the elk hitched outside. Its owner wasn't a problem, but wherever she went, others soon found their way following. Before the barkeep could make his way to the new patrons, had a chance to request a room for the night, the ranger's head shot down when his hunch proved true.

"THAELIN FRIDULF?!" came a woman's voice from the back of the dining hall

There was a mix of embarrassment mixed with resentment etched on the ranger's face when the voice called for him. The man tried to position himself where he could use the crowd as cover, but the attempt was to no avail. Hastur turned to face the crowd, smiling as to answer the beckoning call.

"Hast!" the man chirped trying to make a hushed "what are you doing?

"What? Somebody knows you. Why not be friendly" she scoffed with her usual happy veneer

"Hey! Thaelin!" the voice called a second time

The ranger cursed under his breath. He tried to sneak through the crowd to get his room and make himself scarce, but he owner called for him a third time that was more demanding than before. He had no choice but to comply. Being sociable was a great annoyance.

"Thaelin Fridulf! Get your grumpy ass over here and give me a hug, damn it!"

Nestled in the northeast corner of the hall was a woman chugging the remainder of her tankard. The tankard was roughly almost as big as her. She let out the most bellyful belch any man ever thought would come from such a fair looking lady. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and made her way through the mass of travelers and diners. When she got close to the duo, she came rather close to tripping over a serving wench and dousing the three in a chilled ale. Once the mysterious woman staggered while regaining her composure, she tackled Thaelin with an affectionate hug. The man feigned a friendly smile when he was being embraced.

In Hastur's opinion the woman looked exactly how one might imagine a ranger to have looked: a green bycocket hat with a long red, green, and brown pheasant plume sat atop her long curly red haired hair. Her freckled cheeks were rosy with drink. A long green tunic-dress hung loosely over her shoulders. A deep 'V' was cut at the collar of her tunic to better show off her 'assets'. A leather cord was used to barely lace the collar together. She stood just a few inches taller than the mage and had a quiver full of red fletched arrows across her back.

"Thaelin, how have you been. Its been way too long." The woman said with a ditsy grin.

Hastur could tell the woman was quite drunk but was amazed she could traverse the crowd as she did. It must be common for rangers to be skilled drinkers. Thaelin struggled to answer due to his deep voice was drowned out by merriment around him. This annoyed the red-haired ranger to the point that she rolled her eyes and turned to address the crowd.

"EVERYONE! Shut the fuck up! Me and my friends are trying to talk here!" she yelled with the most bellowed growl Hastur had ever heard.

The entire bar cowered in silence at the woman's deceleration. The violin hissed as it stopped mid tune. Even the bard cowered in fear at the woman. The mass of people made sure to keep their conversations down to a casual tone, but careful not to spark the ranger's ire.

Once they had some silence to better hear each other, the female ranger invited the two to her table.

"Hey barkeep! Bring some mead for my friends here. And whatever they want to eat! Their bill is on me."

"I'll take the mutton shoulder!" Declared Thaelin, eager for a free meal.

"Two chickens for me!" added Hastur

As fast as the staff hurried to bring the red-haired ranger their requests two serving wenches brought forth massive tankards of sweet mead and a trencher of their desired meats. The mutton smelled with savory herds garnished on top. The juicy chunk nearly fell off the bone as the man cut it away Hastur's chickens were both fire roasted with a delicious glaze of honey and thyme dripping over the edges.

Once seated and the three began their feast, the female ranger outstretched her hand to the imposing hooded cleric.

"Marie Oakenglade! Nice to meet'cha." The female ranger said with a cheery tone.

Hastur produced a sincere smile at the loudmouthed ranger. Despite the brunt first impression, she was proving to be a rather kind person.

"Hastur Prynn, a pleasure. And this is Freki." She said tucking her cloak aside and letting her little puppy sit on her lap. Hastur pulled one of the chickens closer to her and let Freki tear into it. The little pup seemed to enjoy every bit of meat in front of him

"Awe! What a little cutie! Where did you get a brittany spaniel? Kind of hard to find around these parts."

"I found him on the way here. I can tell were gonna be best friends." She said stroking the puppy's back. Hastur grinned at the smiling pup that began to sniff for its meal.

Hastur tasted her mead with caution. She never had the drink back in Hayak. But she greatly savored it. It was sweet like a fruit juice, and had almost none of the alcohol bite that most strong drinks had. It was a great treat. Especially for the incoming fall season.

"So Thaelin," Marie said turning to address the man across from her. She looked at the man in what could be described as the most drunken flirtatious expression "What brings you here? I thought you were back east in The Craggs. Or dead." She said with a giggle before taking a long gulp of her drink.

"Work mostly." Admitted Thaelin with a shrug. He refrained from any eye contact with the female ranger as he could. Instead he looked down at his plate and sliced at the tender chunk of mutton under is fork and shoveled in the delicious chunk of meat

"I see." she said with a sly grin. "You know, its been way to long since we last talked, How about later you show me some of you _hunting_ techniques you may have picked up."

While taking a gulp of his drink, the man was caught off guard remark and the huntress tugging at the cord to her collar. With a slight tug the collar opened and he was able to catch a glimpse of the tops of her charms. He choked and a coughing spell took him. With his tankard around his mouth, it amplified the gasps.

"Um, maybe some other time, Marie." he managed between coughs

The female ranger pouted her lips. "Oh well. But if you change your mind, my room is right upstairs."

Across from him, Hastur smirked at the man. Of all the times she watched the man flirt with a pretty face, this was the first time she ever saw man get hit on, and totally freeze up. It was humorous in a case of irony. And in return Thaelin gave her a look that spelled out _'piss off'_

The huntress laughed at her compatriot's clear signs of frustrations. It was amusing to stoke that fire. Just like old times, it was just as funny now as it was then.

"So, if you are here on work, that must mean you're here for the werewolf too?" she said with another sly grin.

"_Shit… she knows."_

Those words made Hastur's blood go cold. It finally made sense as to why he had brought such a large leg hold trap with him. The half elf held her pup close when they started to discuss the beast. Of all the monsters she read about in the libraries, werewolves scared her the most.

"_What did he drag me into?"_

Thaelin pursed his lips. He looked up from his mutton and resented having to converse with the huntress further. "What kinda info you got on the thing?

"I tracked him from Goldenglow for a good tenday. It tore up a lot of cattle down there."

"Damn, anything else?"

"Funny you should ask, sweetie." Marie cooed with a wink as she fumbled through a pouch on her belt.

Not only was this interaction foreboding, but it was also a bit entertaining. The sight before her was unreal. A _woman_ was actively flirting with her friend, and _there he was,_ completely intimidated by the huntress. It was a complete exchange of roles and she couldn't help but grim from this.

Marie retrieved a small cloth bundle. She unrolled the bundle to reveal a few tuffs of grey and black hair.

"He's roughly seven feet tall, mid-adult age, and worse-"

"Pureblood." Thaelin pursed his lips still thinking back on the statement that Marie tracked the beast for the last tenday.

"Yup. Which means the moon phase doesn't concern him any."

Freki let out a whine and lowered his head into Hastur's lap. As if the little pup could understand their talks and knew exactly what the danger the man was going to face.

"Don't worry, little guy. I'll catch this 'big bad wolf'. Thaelin reassured rubbing the pup on the head. His cocky grin was short lived when his keen senses caught wind of a subtle odor. The smell of sweat and ego. He looked to Marie who he could tell sensed the same thing.

"_Oh shit. Not him." _

The door to the inn slammed with a mighty force and a pair of heavy boots tamped their way to the tavern room. A few men chatting next to the entry way scooted away for the hulking behemoth to make its way inside. The figure let out an arrogant laugh when he caught glimpse of the two rangers sitting with their backs to the man.

"HAHAHA! Is that a Misfit I see before me?"

The man was a hulking pile of muscle held together with pride. Thaelin cursed under his breath with every footstep the man took. The man was looked to be so tall he could raise his arm over his head and touch the floor joists above. His arms were as wide as tree trunks and covered with course dark hairs. His mighty chest was like a barrel. The edges if a gnarled scar was wrapped around the right side of his cheek, but the faded wound didn't take away from his pretty-boy looks.

"Well, well, well. As I live and breathe. It_ is_ a Misfit." He said clapping a bear sized hand on Thaelin's shoulder. The sudden jolt clearly sent an ache through the man's body "And here I thought you Misfits were all dead. What a surprise."

"Fuck off Mattias." Thaelin muttered, trying to deepen his voice to equal of the man behind him.

Even Marie flashed a disappointing scowl at the large man. She gripped her hand hands around the handle to her tin mug, ready to use it in a fight if need be.

The massive man turned to Marie and gave her a flirtatious wink. That wasn't returned.

"Well then, this is interesting. If you are here Marie, that must mean that you two are here for the werewolf as well."

"_Son of a bitch…"_

"What's it to you." Grumbled Thaelin

Once again Mattias' attention was brought back to the man. "Well you can pack your bags and return to that filth you call home, Misfit. That bounty is mine."

Hastur lowered her head and tried to melt away. She knew by the temperament of her partner, a fight was sure to break out. She looked back at the crowd of other bar patrons and found many hand migrated a safe distance away. They too sensed the fight to come.

Out of the corner of his eye, the tower of a man, finally noticed the presence of the third member of the group. A yellow cloaked spell caster by the looks of it. She adorably small, and clearly not suited for such an environment as Kessier, let alone her current company.

"A friend of yours, Thaelin?" laughed the arrogant man

"Leave…_her_…alone." Threatened the huntsman.

Mattias leaned in close to the mage and tried to catch a glance at the woman under the hood, but all he saw was the snarling orange and white haired muzzle of the puppy in her arms. Its amber eyes baying for the massive creature to run away and leave its friend alone.

"Awe. Isn't that adorable. The Misfit has himself a little friend." Mattias smirked. With two of his massive fingers he pinched the dog by the scruff of the neck and hoisted it in the air. The little hound yipped as it was taken by its savior

"Freki!" Hastur cried while trying to retrieve her beloved puppy. She reached high, but was no way close to being able to reach for her dog. Her eyes burned with rage "Put him down!"

Mattias smirked at the snarling hound trying to break free of the vice like grip. He pointed a finger close to freki's muzzle and laughed when he felt pup try to bite him.

"Isn't that _so_ cute. I'd be careful little fella. Anyone who hangs around a Misfit, often ends up dead. _Real_ quick." The man loked down and gave the angered mage the same smirk. As if to give her the same warning.

Thaelin shuddered at the omen. He wished he had his sword with him, but his fork would have to make due. The man twirled the wire twisted fork in hand and thrusted it into the calve of the massive man next to him. The mountain of a man let out a roar as theelin released his grip on the fork and with the bottom of his clenched fist he slammed the fist into the groin of the giant man. Mattias dropped the hound and cowered in his shuddering pain. Hastur scooped Freki mid-air and retreated to a safe distance away from the ensuing fight. She was greatly relieved that the puppy looked unharmed.

From behind, a knife emerged and was pressed to the musclebound man's throat. In all the sudden commotion, Hastur lost sight of Marie. She crawled onto Mattias' back and held him in a lethal hold. The female ranger leaned in close to his ears and gave the man the most terrifying warning Thaelin had heard.

"Mattias, _sweetie_, why don't you do us all a favor and fuck off. Otherwise I'm going to carve a vagina on your face, and have every man in this room, skull-fuck you."

She held the knife to the behemoth until he was able to nod in agreement. Mattias pulled the fork free from his leg and snarled at the rangers. With his pride injured, the large man snarled as he backed away, but not before offering a bit of advice to the two mongrels protected by the rangers.

"Your days are numbered, Misfit." He said before exiting the inn. "Remember what I said."


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: The Hunt Begins

*_Snick…snick…snick…_*

Anger radiated off him with every pass of the whetstone. Whenever the stone grazed the edge of his dagger, the huntsman imagined using the blade to slice off bits and chunks of that foul opponent that harmed his friend's puppy. The ranger paused for a second and admired the keen edge of his bollock dagger. Sharp enough to skin a bastard with. Or a werewolf. Whichever one crosses his path first.

Hastur and Freki sat across the room at a small table where the mage had her face buried in Mother Illisa's book trying to find any information she could on werewolves. Surely a magical approach would give her friend an edge in the hunt to come. The passing of the whetstone matched the ominous aura coming from her friend. Already adorned in his leather cuirass and bracers, the Huntsman was just killing time before the hunt.

_*Snick…snick…*_

"It says here that lycanthropy is a curse. You know I could try to find a way to break-"

"It wont work." Finally, Thaelin broke his brooding silence. His concentration stayed locked on his blade. "It's a pureblood werewolf, Hast. Its cursed from birth. Only way to '_cure_' it, is to kill it."

"So only silver can slay the beast…Is your dagger edged with silver then?"

"Nope." He said pausing the sharpening swipes to look over the blade before turning the blade over to work on the other edge.

"Then how do you expect to kill it then?"

"Big Bob." He said pointing at that disgusting trap leaning against the doorway with his dagger. "Bob's teeth are lined with silver. When the Big Bad steps on Big Bob, he's stuck there and I go in and chop off its fucking head."

Hastur went back to looking at the etching of a werewolf fighting against several dwarves armed with massive axes. The drawing made her feel uneasy. Especially since four dwarves were drawn on the ground completely torn to pieces. A little arm was held in the werewolf's paw close to its mouth.

"What about your friend, Marie?"

"She's not my friend!" Thaelin declared trying to hold back a blush "She's just a fellow ranger…nothing more."

"Okay, but what if she gets hurt?"

"She's a big girl. She can look after herself." Thaelin said trying to focus on putting the sharpest edge on his dagger.

"…and that brute? He will be in the forest too." The thought of what that 'man' did to Freki made Hastur's nerves skyrocket. She leaned over and gave the puppy a protective hug.

"Well…" Thaelin said looking over the blade with a wicked grin "accidents do happen out there. No one will ask questions. I could always say that the beast did him in."

The mage closed the book and rubbed her sore eyes. She gave Freki a pat on the flank before removing her hood. "Promise me you will be careful. "

"Sure, whatever." The man said sheathing his dagger and tightened the lacings on his cuirass and bracers.

"Want me to bless your weapon?"

"Sure why not. But make it quick. I got to leave before dusk." He said placing his sword belt and freshly sharpened dagger on his bed.

Hastur took a waterskin from her satchel and wet her hands with it. She approached Thaelin's weapons and unsheathed them enough to touch their worn steel blades. With her wet fingers, she drew a mantra onto the blade's fuller while reciting a prayer. When she was finished she approached the wicked steel trap next to the door and placed a damp hand on the terrifying steel jaws with shining silvered teeth

"_Oghma, lord of Knowledge. Bless this steel and grant the warrior the wisdom he needs to slay this monstrosity that threatens the land_."

Satisfied with her efforts, the ranger strapped on the blades and hoisted his trap over his shoulder The rattle of the trap's chain announced his farewell. The second that door closed, Hastur tugged the edges of her cloak close. "Please be careful."

Mattias strapped on a pair of gauntlets to his massive hands and forearms. With a smug look, he smirked at the two-inch long silver spikes on the knuckles. For him, fighting this beast with his bear hands was going to send his glory into the songs of every bard in the Duchies. People will know the greatness that was Mattias Abner.

The large man followed the empty road by torchlight. The cackle of the flames sputtered as it followed his path. From behind the creature let loose a mighty roar as it brandished its dark claws.

"There you are." He said dropping the torch.

Mattias grabbed the beast by the arm and wrenched it into a hold. From there he moved to grapple the creature into a stranglehold. Using his legs. The brute sweeped his leg out from under the wolf and slammed it to the dirt. The light of the nearby torch shone the ugly and horrific face of the beast. Its elongated snout, snarling fangs, black fur, and bright yellow eyes.

The ranger rolled on top of the beast and started pummeling the creature. The spikes on his gauntlet pierced the thick hide of the beast and damaged the tissue within. The monster whined like an injured hound as it struggled to get free.

"Oh no you don't." laughed the man as he closed in to finish the beast off.

The werewolf used all of its remaining strength to break free of Mattias' grapple. It outstretched its arms and crawled away, its toe claws scratched scores into the dirt as it ran off into the dark.

"Get back here!"

The elk stalked through the north of the primeval woods. The elk followed the heed of its rider. But kept a watchful eye into the darkness. Marie gave her mount a reassuring pat on the neck and held her spear like a jousting knight gripped his lance. The two rode through the dark. The light of the crescent moon guided them.

The snap of a twig alerted the female ranger of the nearby prey. She twirled her spear overhand and flung it into the darkness. A second went by before the guttural growl of a black creature roared in pain before fleeing under the cover of night. Her spear hit its mark.

"Onward, Heorot!" commanded the ranger charging her steed after the injured beast. While the elk galloped along, Marie produced her bow and silver tipped arrows. She lined up a shot and let loose the red arrows.

A few of the arrows met its target. It was wounded by the pure metal arrows burning into its flesh, but still gave flight.

Marie put away her bow and steered the running elf to pursue closer to the beast. The running elk dove between small gaps in trees, and bound over shrubs. When her mount got alongside the running creature, Marie rose in her saddle, taking the reigns in one hand and a silver edged dagger she braced herself for her next feat.

She vaulted herself from her saddle and grabbed for dear life onto the matted course fur of the beast. She raised her blade high and thrusted it down between the shoulder blades of the werewolf. It let out a ravenous howl as the metal burned its flesh and caused the creature to lose its pace and topple into a mangled roll.

The huntress let go of the creature as she and it rolled forth, striking their bodies against all manner of obstacles. Marie skid to a halt. Her belly dragged through the mud and her body aching. She raised her head to find the maw of an enraged werewolf snarling. Ready to pounce.

"Heorot!"

Thaelin waltzed soft footed through the dark forest. He looked up at the moon and gave it a cocky smirk. Its crescent shaped light gave some lighting for the huntsman, but he didn't need it. The ranger then looked back at the dense wood and his eyes flashed with a dull blue light. The forest around him illuminated to a dim light in his eyes. He could see much better now. The outlines of large paw prints in the mud led his way.

"Marie wasn't lying." He thought when he traced his hand over the massive hind leg tracks. Roughly 14-inches in length. The heel resembled that of an ordinary man's, but the front pads were spaced out like a wolf's. Four long claws dug deep into the muddy floor. By the outline and the dew around the edges of the prints, he saw that they were fresh.

His steps followed the tracks over 100yards and next to a fallen elm, there it was. A mass of dark brown fur huddled around the carcass of its fresh kill. The sounds of teeth tearing at muscle and bones breaking sent a chill through his heart. He slowly unsheathed his short sword and attempted to approach the feasting monstrosity. He walked as softly as a puma on the prowl. Careful not to disturb any debris. He managed to move within 10 feet of the creature before he saw it's pointed ear perk up. The smacking sounds of chewing teeth stopped and a bloody maw snarled at him.

"Oh shit."

Thaelin swung his shortsword at monster's flank, spun on the balls of his feet, and bolted away. The gasp of the creature alerted the man that he had the monsters attention. A blood drenched maw of the beast let out a droning howl as it gave chase. Its claws dug into the mud and it lunged itself after the terrified huntsman

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Worst. Plan. Ever." Panted Thaelin.

His eyes glowed blue as he used his sight to dodge between trees in the dead of the night. His legs moved faster than he thought they ever could. Arms flailing in hopes that they could give him a little hint of more speed. And all the while, he tried to stick to his terribly executed plan.

He didn't look back. He didn't have to. He knew the werewolf was following, he heard its harsh pants for breath, its growls with every bound. Those red eyes that glowed in the moonlight. They followed its prey's every step. Whenever it zig-zaged through the woods, so did it. When it jumped, over a log it leaped to. Its fangs snapped at the air in hopes of sinking into the man's flesh. Thaelin's chest ached. His muscles burned and fresh air stung his lungs. But he had to keep going. The ranger made one last leap and slid to a near halt. He was tired. And it was about time he made his stand.

The beast followed in his bound, but when it made contact with the ground-

*CRUNCH*

Wailing howls broke the night as several steel and silver spikes tore into the werewolf's hide. The holy metal burned when the creature thrashed its front paw about trying to break free of the immense pain and pressure bearing down on its right arm. Faint wisps of steam could be seen in the moonlight coming from the fresh wounds.

As the monster roared, howled, and dug into the mud, Thaelin backed up against a tree. He dropped his shortsword and slid down the base of the tree taking a moment to catch his breathe. A sense of relief splashed over him when he wiped his sweaty brow.

"Oh god, worst. Plan. Ever."

He watched on as the beast flailed around and grew nervous when the beast stopped and stared at him. His greatest fear was about to come true. The Pureblood Werewolf, was intelligent.

The creature opened its massive jaw and bore down on its own arm, just above where the steel teeth were digging in, and began to tear at its own flesh.

Thaelin rolled his eyes as he rolled to his feet and retrieved his sword.

"Hey! Kibbles and Bitch!" he yelled drawing out his bollock dagger, trying to buy himself some time with a distraction.

The long snout opened wide and chomped towards the ranger. The chain to the trap and a nearby post rattled wildly.

"Play dead!"

He said thrusting his sword into the toothy maw and slammed the length of his dagger into its neck. The ranger yelled when the teeth started to clamp down into his leather bracer covered arm. Again and again he used his dagger to stab into its neck until the beast's body became weaker. And moved less.

The huntsman then used his dagger to pry the werewolf's jaws apart enough to free himself. In one panicked jerk he pulled himself free along with his sword. Its cursed blood leaked into the mud, making the ground more soggy. Thaelin stood over his dying foe one more time before delivering his coup-de-grace.

"Down boy!" he smirked bringing his shortsword down onto the beast's neck. Freeing its wretched head from its mangled and scarred body. A guttural roar escaped the ranger's lungs as he stood over the slain beast


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 23: Alone

'_Maybe he's late?'_

Rain tapped against the windowpane. The change in the seasons brought with it the change of weather. Rains pelted the land as if to cool off the fields for the hot summer. Grey overcast skies matched the plumes of forge smoke that wafted over the Cloud District. On and off rain showers washed the city of Hayak in drab drenched color tones. Street gutters flowed like small brooks.

The fragrant aroma of roasted earthy coffee beans filled the air of in a soothing warm miasma. Patrons sat scattered about at tables reading, chatting, and savoring the exotic flavors of a drink brought from the vast South.

Sitting alone, the cleric shivered under her yellow cloak. Her hands wrapped around the porcelain cup in front of her. Her half-finished cup of coffee did little to warm the gaping ache forming in her chest. She looked at the mechanical clock on the wall as it chimed its half hour tune for the third time.

'_He's not coming.'_

Hastur hung her head low in shame. She tugged at the corners of her cowl in hopes that she could bury herself in it. The mage's eyes welled and a single tear puddled down her cheek and dripped into the cup below.

'_Of course he is not coming. Why would he? Why would someone ever be interested in me?'_

The bell to the shop's doors chimed and a small semblance of hope filled the mage's heart but, dashed her optimism when it chimed a patron leaving instead. Emotions boiled within her.

Depression. Anger. Melancholy.

The little mage trudged her way through the rainy streets. The rain beaded against her yellow cloak. When she returned to her boarding house. She looked to her roommate. Sitting at the dining table counting out his coinpurse. Stacks of silver and copper coins stacked in neat rows to some budget he was setting forth. Freki laying curled up at his feet.

He didn't say a word. His sight stayed fixed on the coins. He didn't even notice that she had returned.

'_All men are the same'_

So bothered by his obliviousness to her clear heartache, she grabbed a pillow from her bed and threw it hard at the man. Coins scattered across the floor and Thaelin toppled backwards in his chair. Freki yelped as he jumped into action, head looking around for some unseen attacker.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" yelled the man, his attention returned to scooping up the coins all about him.

The half-elf merely raised her hood enough to where the man could see her burning green eyes. "Grab your cape. I need a drink."

Rather than face the mages clear wrath, the ranger chose to comply and not ask until she proved to be in a calmer mind.

Hastur hosted her tankard to her lips and refused to lower it until it was empty. When the last of her ale trickled down her throat, she let out a gasp for air then reached across the table and pilfered the rangers cup from his hand. She too downed that in one quick sitting.

"Another!" she declared slamming the mug on the table

Thaelin looked at his friend with utter puzzlement. Something was clearly wrong. And he knew better than to interfere with a scorned woman.

"So…thirsty?" his smirk was met with an annoyed scowl "Gonna tell me what happened before you drown yourself and your sorrows?"

When the serving wench could offer to refill their mugs, the cleric gave the woman a rabid scowl "Leave the pitcher!"

The mage drank half of her next tankard before answering with a brooding tone "All men are assholes."

The ranger smirked before sliding his refilled mug to his partner. "Yes, yes we are. But I think something else is bothering you."

With her third tankard empty and her mood only one iota calmer, Hastur pursed her lips. "I got stood up, alright?"

Thaelin scratched his beard. He wanted to scoff at the reason behind her outburst back at the boarding house, but a sparking a spell caster's ire would most likely end badly for him.

"I see. Want me to have a chat with him?"

The murky brown ale rushed out the leather-jack pitcher and replenished the mages cup. "If by 'chat' you mean 'bring him to me so I can cut off his testicles and crush them under my boot' than yes. Go _chat_ with him."

Thaelin winced at the mention of severing ones manhood. He pursed his lips tight. Before her next ale could touch her lips, the ranger cautiously outstretched his arm in an attempt to take away the drink from her

"_Or_. We go do something else to take your mind off ball crushing."

Hastur glared at the man interfering with her drink. "You have five second to let go of my cup, or I will cut something of yours."

"Rather than test the half elf's bluff. Thaelin retracted his hand. "Look Hast. Your pissed. I get that. But rather than drink yourself dumb, how about tomorrow we go pick up a side quest for you."

"No."

"Come on. It'll be fun. Listen. I know a guy. We'll do a simple fetch quest. It will get you out, take your mind off that one dude, and you can find some cool loot. Sounds fun right?"

"No."

Thaelin rolled his eyes at the mage's stubbornness. "Alright fine. If you do the fetch quest,_ and somehow, _if you're still pissed. I'll find that guy who stood you up and you can cut off his balls."

A wave of relief washed over the ranger when he saw the Hastur's eyebrow rise in interest. She took a quick swig of her tankard and wiped her lips before answering.

"Fine. But make sure your flask is full of rum. I'm going to need it."


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Hastur's quest

The cork popped off the flask and its dark amber colored contents burned its way down the half elf's throat. Notes of cloves, allspice, and orange peel laid on the mages tongue as she sealed the flask once again. The burn of the strong drink didn't help last night's binge, but as long as she was feeling numb, she felt better. Dark bags hung under her eyes. Her usual cheerful demeanor soured into constant scowl. She rested a hand on her rapier and in her other held onto a thin rope leash tied gently to her little furry companion.

"Where are we going?" She said slipping the flask into her satchel.

"To cheer you up so you're not such a moody bitch." Sighed the ranger leading her to some unknown back alley corridor. The man walked with his usual swagger and looked about the walls. All the brick and daub walls looked the same in this district. But there was something he was looking for. A certain marking.

Thaelin stopped in front of a service door that had a small green rune carved near the door handle.

"Here we are…"

The man looked back at his partner who was feigned interest and took another swig from the flask. He gave seven rhythmic strikes to the door before the sound of something slid across a wood floor and a small peep hole snapped open.

"Oi! What's the password?" came a high-pitched voice from the dark room

"_Agorwch y drws, chi fygythiad bach_." Answered the ranger

Several locks unbolted along the frame of the door and the door creaked open enough for the ranger and mage to slide through. It slammed shut behind them and a small halfling scurried about leaning a small crosbow against the door ans started securing the door once more.

"This way." Beckoned the little halfling as the little guide led the two through a few doorways. An aura of shady dealings radiated off this 'business'. Hastur kept a tight hold of Freki's leash. Getting the little puppy lost in here would surely spell disaster.

After a few twists and turns they came to a lantern lit room filled with a vast collection of oddities and obscure items. The walls were lined with bookshelves and small pigeon cubbies stocked with scrolls. A center post hung two candle lanters near the ceiling. The halfling climbed up into an elevated chair and went back to work dipping a feather quill and writing.

Hastur marveled at the sight of a device with several magnifying lenses on the counter placed next to a red crystal. This device would make a fine addition to her alchemy table back at the apartment. Freki's nose sniffed around the floor. A thick layer of dust and dirt made it hard to discern certain smells.

The small almond shaped eyes of the halfling watched the cleric browse the shelves. He smirked as she seemed to inspect the mechanical devises set about.

The bookkeep scribbled a few notes down before addressing his customer "What brings ya to me this time, _meddwyn_?" he snickered.

"My friend here needs a side quest. Got anything in stock?" the man said leaning against the counter. "Fetch quest if ya got one."

"Hmm…" the halfling scratched at a balding spot in his little head. "Maybe?" the clerk hopped off his chair and walked around the room eyeing the length of the shelves. "Difficulty level?"

Thaelin gave a quick glance at Hastur trying to make a good judgement call "Adept." He assessed

"Special interest?"

"Elven…"

Hastur's ears perked up under her hood.

"Ooh!" Lamented the clerk as he honed in on a shelf tucked near the eastern corner "I might have something." The little man went to retrieve a step ladder and climbed up to grasp a faded brown scroll. "Elven relics are a prized item in the south. Even a spoon is worth its weight in silver. Lets see here. Somewhere I have something…"

The halfling man plucked an aged scroll from its spot and unfurled it for the duo to see.

"Ah Here it is."

Hastur rubbed her dreary eyes to look at the etchings on the parchment. Spiral stalks of barley decorated the edges. Detailed depictions of the land were drawn with much skill and precise degree. Small wedges marked the locale of the Anvil mountain range to the northwest. There was no markings of Hayak on the map. Indicating exactly how old this text truly was. A small 'x' marked a location named near the base of the mountain. The halfling tapped a finger against the spot. "Right there."

"Pine Cairn…" noted Hastur. The ink was a bit faded from age, but she could still make out the lettering with success.

The halfling smirked at the hooded cleric. "You can read Elvish? That's a rare skill."

"Yes…I-uh…work in the libraries at the Monastery. As a translator." Added the cleric. She lowered her head in an attempt to try and make her half breed features hidden

The halfling nodded with a wolf's grin. He rolled up the scroll once again and pointed it at the ranger. "Is it a deal?"

"What do you think Hast? This is your quest." Shrugged the man

"Sure, lets do it."

Just as the mage reached for the scroll, the bookkeep tilted the paper tube back towards him "Ah, ah, you know the rules. What do you have to offer, huntsman?"

Thaelin sneered at the shrewish man. He leaned in close and placed a hand over his mouth. The clerk gleefully placed his ear near and delighted in the exchange

'_I got word that the city guard are going to crack down on the Sugar Moss stills in a few days. Your 'contacts' will be needing this information.'_

The clerk smiled softly at the news and followed the duo out.

Hastur unfurled the map to the North. She scanned the geography of the map. Guessing as to where they currently were it would take a day's travel by foot to reach the location. And who knows how long to find the cairn once they arrive.

By evening Thaelin, Hastur and Freki made a small camp not far off the North Road. The crackle of a small fire blazed between the two adventurers. The mage lounged on her bedroll with Freki curled up beside her. She took one final tug from the flask before corking it and shook its contents.

"I'm almost out of rum…"

"Ya know, a little edge suits you." Laughed Thaelin stretching his hand out for the flask

The half elf reluctantly parted with it and laid flat on her back. Her vision woozy from a day and night of constant drinking. She reached over to Freki, and pet his soft coat of fur

"Freki, promise me you wont leave me?"

The ranger rolled his eyes at the sorrowful sight. "That boy must have dumped you hard, for turning into this big of a mess."

Hastur turned her head and glared at Thaelin's face over the small flames of their fire. "He was such a nice guy too."

"Let me guess." The ranger softened his voice to a feminine mockery as he continued "He was the most handsomest young knight-errant I ever saw. I knew that we were destined to be together forever. We could even make cute little elf babies."

"Piss off!" Scoffed the cleric rolling over onto her side away from the heckler

The man scratched at his beard as he sensed he went a bit far with his teasing "What was his name?"

She didn't reply. But before Thaelin took another gulp from his rum flask, he faintly heard an answer. Spoken as softly as if by a mouse "Milos."

"What kind of name is Milos? Sounds like some kind of 'fancy-lad' from the South." He said with a chuckle

Hastur rolled back around and gave a light smile at his jest. "H-he was a bookbinder from Esolban"

"Of course he was." Thaelin added dryly "You must have been desperate if you wanted to fuck a quill-dipper from the South." the ranger fell backwards in laughter.

"Asshole! I will have you know I can get laid just as easily as you can!"

In choking laughter, Thaelin wiped a tear from his eye and struggled to keep his composure "I highly doubt that."

Hastur's face blushed and contorted into a grimace. She pointed a finger at the small fire between them she whispered some arcane words and the flame spouted into an inferno.

"HOLY SHIT!" Thaelin yelled jumping back swatting the tiny embers around them before they had a chance to ignite him and his knapsack. The man cursed as he paced around and took a seat when the flames died down to its previous size. He expected an apology, but reminded himself he was in the wrong.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I'm an asshole. And that was an asshole thing to say.-"

"It was. And you are." she interrupted with a matter of fact

"Now how about we keep it civil before we burn down this forest. Thaelin paused trying to think of something to say. Something that _wont_ get him ignited on fire again.

"Wanna tell me about him? I mean if you still aren't happy after this quest, I gotta know who I'm looking for so you can uh-" rather than finish his sentence he extended his index and middle finger and open and closed them to mimic a pair of sheers.

Hastur chuckled at the gesture. Her mind wandered in memory to her former admirer "His hair was as yellow as straw. Wide eyes like two moons. He had a square cut jaw, barrel chested, and his hands were firm, yet soft."

"How come I never met him? It's like somehow this guy just appeared out of nowhere. "

"Hate to break it to you Thaelin, but you are the last person I want to introduce to _my_ friends."

The two shared a good laugh and paused to take in the stillness of the night and to add more branches to the fire. Thelin laid down onto his bedroll and let out a grunted sigh as his back got use to the stiff dirt floor. Hastur watched as Freki's little legs kicked as he slept. She gently rubbed the pups flank and smiled at his adorable sleeping pose. In just the week that she had brought him back from the Kessier Forest, Freki had seemed to acclimate to the city with ease. He headed her instruction well, and with his 'potty training' he would be a fine addition to their team. When she stroked the back of the dog's neck, she remembered his man-handling by the brute in Kessier Village. And those words spoken.

"Hey Thaelin"

The man replied with a grunt, undiscerning if it signified he wasn't asleep or not. But she took it as a sign that he was awake

"Whats a Misfit? Back in Kessier you promised you would tell me if you survived the werewolf.

"I did?"

"Yes. So, What is it? Were you in a street gang or a ranger's guid?"

The ranger's yawn turned into a chuckle "Nope. Remember when I told you about Varris and the 'game'?"

The half elf thought back and then smiled at the details of such a vulgar ordeal.

"Welp. Back then, we were a group of inexperienced adventurers that would travel about and do some odd jobs for money."

"So you were mercenaries?"

"Ha! Kinda, but not really. See, they called us Misfits because that is what we were. Losers. We had an apprentice wizard that stole his magic, a dwarf archer; me; a hedonist' who was my best friend mind you; and the scariest bitch with a blade in all the North. We traveled everywhere from The Craggs to Mortru, and Elaskyyr to Aio. We caused so much trouble along the way. We got banned from almost every brothel in Mortru's capital."

The man wanted to continue on reminiscing, but he felt she would not appreciate tales of his misadventures.

"What about you, Hast? Care to share a little about how a little spell-slinger like yourself managed to wind up North?" the soft steady breaths of a sleeping mage made the man trail off before "Another time then."

By the next afternoon. The final drips of the rum dropped forth from the spout of the leather flask. Hastur held out her tongue in an effort to catch the last drops. When nothing more came, she looked at the flask with a pouted lip and melancholy

"The rum is gone. Why is all the rum gone?" she grumbled

Thaelin stood off looking at the map and glancing up towards the massive mesa that was before them. The Anvils, aptly names for its flat surface and iron-gray stone surface. Yellow lichen grew on the cliff face like rust on the anvil. As a natural border, this mountain helped sever the contact Hayak had with The Elven North. The ranger's biggest hope was that their poking around the border wont end in another kidnapping like the last time they were this far north.

"Hey!" came a yell behind him "Why is the rum gone?"

"Probably because you drank it all, lightweight."

Hastur's pout was even worse now. "Why must everything leave me?"

The huntsman handed the mage the map and crossed his arms. "Okay, we are here. Whats the map say.

Still fixated on the rum, hastur tossed the empty flask in her satchel "I once read that there was a god who could turn water into wine. If only I could have been his cleric. I could pray and drink all day"

"And I could be a high priest. We could build a temple and call it The Church of the Holy Spirits. But first, how about you open the door."

The half-elf unfurled the parchment. She squinted at the script written about. "Its gotta be a magic door." she said.

Hastur slung her satchel to her front and dug through its contents for her piece of chalk. She stood at the base of the towering mountain wall to rub her hand across its surface. When she found a rather smooth spot looking like a scholar's slat. She proceeded to draw an arched door big enough for her. Once satisfied with the look, she stepped back and continued to read the instructions.

"Now you have to open it." She said taking a few steps back

"Why me? Its gonna be trapped." Declared the huntsman crossing his arms in protest

"Its not trapped. It says her that the door must be opened by a friend to Elven-kind. You're my friend" she nudged. "Go open it."

Thaelin approached the drawing with caution. He placed a hand on the surface and applied pressure. But nothing happened.

Wait! Do I say the word friend or something?

How am I supposed to know? Just because I'm part elf doesn't mean I know this stuff. Its worth a shot I guess. The elven word for friend is _ebr_-

"_Soithin baeg!_" The ranger cocked his head back to look at the mountain. The echo of his words resonated off the steep cliff face. Remnants of his speech bounced off the mount and was cast back into the forest behind them. He fully expected the mountain to shift and the door to unfold in some grand entrance. But nothing. Not a pebble was out of place. The wind blew the same. The barren tops of the mesa retained their perpetual flat tops.

"Damn. I think your door is broken." He said to a visibly distraught cleric

"Of all the things you could possible know in my language. You say that?!"

"What?"

"What? What?! Do you have any idea what you have just said?"

"The word for friend? How am I supposed to know? Do I look like I have a pair of dagger ears on me?"

The cleric dropped her satchel and commenced to wallop the huntsman. She struck with such fury the ranger struggled to escape the mage's wrath. With a mighty punt her boot dropped her friend to his knees. Hands cradling his groin and tears welling in his eyes. A high pitched shriek escaped the man's gasping lips.

"Soithin baeg means 'little bitch'. You fucking idiot."

"S-sorry." He managed to say curled up into a fetal position while he wallowed in his crippling pain, the ranger thought back to they were taken by the elves. That certainly explained why the maiden with the large charms laughed at him.

The word for friend is _erbrath. _Now say it right before I kick you a second time."

Thaelin rocked onto his side. He repeated the words as best he could. And the chalk outline on the cliff swung open on magic hinges.

Hastur smirked at the door. She approached the doorway. Her core hummed with nervous tingling. She placed a hand on the stone frame. The air inside was cool, stale, and musty. The light from outside struggled to illuminate the interior.

"It's a trap". Winced Thaelin slowly getting to his feet. The crippling pain starting to subside in his loins.

"Its _not_ a trap."

The little mage felt a stone under her left boot sink into a pressure plate and the sounds of mechanisms activated. The walls came alive. And an unknown grown roared from within.

'_Oh shit._ _It was a trap'_


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter 24: Dungeon Crawl **Part I**

From the darkness arose the horde. Called from their resting places to battle once more. Their desiccated flesh bound tightly around their frames. Their bony hands gripped ancient blades covered in a film of dirt. Plumes of dust escaped their dried preserved mouths as they came forth. Their empty sunken eye sockets were filled with the light of magical undeath. Wisps of greenish-orange light boiled in their place sending a disturbing aura to all those that disrupted the horde and witnessed their masses.

Freki's ears tilted back, his lips were curled exposing his little fangs, body lowered into a crouch, tail tucked under and his high pitched baying at the entrance. All signs of severe distress. Hasturs face went pale as the moans and death rattles of horde entered the chamber.

"Zombies!" yelled the mage. She dropped Freki's leash, drew her rapier and charged at the legion of the undead. The putrid smell of their slowly rotting bodies offended Hastur's nostrils.

The shambling corpses of long deceased warriors dragged their weapons and limbs towards the intruder. Their joints creaked as the undead raised their swords to strike the mage.

Hastur swiped an ancient longsword away. With her free hand she produced a magical barrier that served to repel two strikes from a dual wielding undead. The cleric lunged the needle-like blade into the neck of her first attacker. The thin bladed sword poked cleanly through the leathery flesh around the zombie. Before the creature could advance more Hastur twitched her wrist and her blade severed the undead's head from its shoulders. As it fell, it stirred up a cloud of dust that created a screen for another warrior to join the fray.

Thaelin staggered to his feet. He braced himself against the stone archway and shook the residual pain of being kicked square in the testicles from his core. He drew out his shortsword and sighed in annoyance. The man limped into the fight. He slammed his sword into the rim of a deteriorated round shield. The double edged shortsword became lodged in the shield and with a chomping maw coming after his flesh, the ranger abandoned his sword. He threw a right hooked punch into the zombie staggering it enough to where he could grab ahold of the wrinkled head of the zombie and slam it into his knee.

The mage cast an orb of yellow light into her palm and thrust it int the hollow innards of the two bladed swordsman. The emaciated wretch's flesh ignited as if doused in oil. Hastur kicked the burning remains aside and continued on. She hacked and slashed the revenants with holy fury. From behind her, one undead grabbed the mage's faded yellow cloak and pulled her down into a grapple. Panic took the half elf. While she fell, the mage positioned her blade and three reanimated corpses became skewered by the blade as they collapsed on top of the mage. Pinning her down in the process.

Struggling to be freed from the mass of undead corpses on top of her, her eyes widened when she looked up to a cobwebbed set of jaws moaning to tear her flesh asunder. Before the yellow teeth of the undead had a chance, a thick leather boot stomped down into the hollow skull, just barely striking the cleric's face.

The ranger kicked the stack of bodies off his partner and offered a helping hand to bring the mage to her feet.

"Look out!" she yelled bursting into action once again. Hastur cast another burning orb into the chest cavity of an incoming axe wielder.

The cloud of dried dust burned the man's lungs. In his moment of choking, two bony hands wrapped themselves around the huntsman's neck. With unnatural strength, the undead pulled him close to its jaws. The ranger brought up his right arm and the zombie bit down into the hardened leather vambrace. He jerked his arm upwards to expose the bare wrinkled neck of his foe.

Hastur spun on the balls of her feet and brought her rapier down onto the exposed leathery neck of her next foe. Thaelin dropped the ragged remains. His attention was taken when the faint growls of their third party member came rushing in to the rescue.

"Damn it!" the ranger groaned bolting after the puppy.

The little hound came bounding into the conflict. It barked and bit the ankles of the undead. It tugged at its prey's leg and with all its might the dog managed to topple the zombie allowing his friend to stomp in the skull of the undead.

"Stupid dog." Thaelin sighed scooping up the puppy with one hand. Cradled in his arm, the ranger grabbed the wrist of an incoming scimitar. He wrenched the blade loose, pirouetted around the undead swordsman and plunged the blade into the back of his final foe.

Hastur shook the dust from her cloak. Three smoldering corpses lay at her feet as the glow of her sacred magic left her hand. The mage sheathed her rapier and called for her puppy. Freki squirmed out of the huntsman's arm and bound towards the cleric.

"Awe! Who's a brave little fella?" hastur cooed. Freki grunted as he licked the mages caressing hands "Did you try to help us? Awe you're such a good boy! So much nicer than _somebody_ I know."

The ranger mumbled to himself as he collected his shortsword from the tattered shield of a still rustling zombie. His heavy foot smashed through its skull. The sound echoed off the walls like a shattering clay vessel.

"These swords look to be in fair shape." The ranger said kicking one free from its former owner. "When we are done here I could take these back to Abbner and get some gold. You wanna continue on, or do you want to set off more traps?"

"We are not five minutes into this dungeon, and you're already an ass?" retorted Hastur "Lets go find the treasure and get out of here."

Lead the way Hast, who knows, maybe you will free another _draugr_ horde or a den of basilisks. Wont that be fun?"

After a short respite, Hastur lowered her hood and took in the sight the first chamber in their dungeon crawl. Four stone tree shaped buttresses were carved into the corners of the chamber several torch sconces dotted the walls. Hastur squinted as she tried to make out what lay in the furthest part of the chamber. A pathway maybe?

With her free hand she produced a ball of yellow light that to illuminate their way. In her other hand she produced the map and read its ancient runes.

"It says: From the Orchard, to the path of the Snake. Bid the Weavers praise of their work, then read from the Pool of Stars to the bounty to behold"

"I don't see an orchard." The huntsman sighed as he pat-down the corpses and found no signs of treasure.

The mage looked to the tree shaped buttresses at the four corners of the chamber. "That's because we are here. And this way must be the path of the snake. This way." She said marching ahead down a narrow stone corridor. Hastur proceeded with caution, Freki at her side sniffing the dirt, and Thaelin following. His hand resting on his pistol crossbow. The previous battle put a bad taste in his mouth.

"I don't like snakes." He whispered to himself looking at the pictograms of a dozen snake shaped images decorating the walls

After a few yards, Hastur swiveled her head quickly "Do you hear that?" she asked

"If its giant spiders or a snake, I'm leaving." Remarked Thaelin as a cold shiver went down his spine

The sounds of movement echoed down the hallway. She placed a hand on the wall and inched her way ahead. On the very edge of her light, she saw it. Two shining yellow eyes close to the ground. It looked at her and charged.

The half elf let out a shrill scream and jumped backwards in absolute terror.

Freki stood his ground and lunged at the vermin. His little paws pounced on the beast and in a short tumble he clenched his jaws tightly on its neck and thrashed it violently. Till the vermin stopped squirming and a few splatters of blood painted the walls

Thaelin drew out his sword and pushed the mage behind him. But when he saw their hound dealing with the threat, he sheathed his sword and laughed

"You got to be kidding me." He smirked. "A rat? You're scared of a little rat?"

The mage placed a hand on her chest. Her heart was pounding like a drum and her breath short. "S-shut up!" she managed. Y-you're s-scared of spiders, asshole."

Giant Spiders are different. Let me take point. Scaredy-cat." He said turning his back and continuing down the path alone.

Hastur regained her composure before going on, he stopped and looked at Freki and his vanquished foe. "My hero." She smirked

On the cusp of her line of sight she made out a faint silhouette of the ranger as he made his way forward. His footsteps were as silent as a shadow. Every bend in the tunnel caused her to lose track of him. Hastur paused a moment and watched as the man entirely slipped into the shadows. All went silent for a time until she heard the faint taps of boots striking the stones again. The shape of her partner reappeared in the light as he came running towards her.

"Nope!" he managed to say huffing and puffing his way past the mage. The man's eyes were like two blue moons when he dashed

Not long after that, she heard shuffling and hissing sounds coming from the darkness in front of her. Then on the edge of her magic light the reflection of several black eyes looked at her. A pink and green carapace l and four pincers for a beak protected its slobbering maw.


	26. Chapter 25

Chapter 25 Dungeon Crawl **Part II**

"Kill it! Kill it with fire!" shrieked the Huntsman

The mage's divine orb of light floated through the air as she and her hound chased after Thaelin's shadow. And away from the swarm of monstrosities behind them.

As Oghma as her witness, she wouldn't look back. She didn't have to. She could hear them. Their hiss gurgled from the toxins leaking from its mouth, its long spear like legs struck the stone floor chasing after the heroes.

When they made their way to the first chamber, Thaelin cowered behind the opening to the dungeon complex. Sweat rolling down his brow and legs wobbling in fright.

"Hastur! Run!"

Near the end of the Snake's tunnel, she turned and gave one look back. From a brief glance she could only see one of the large spiders, but heard more coming from behind it. Many more. The spiders appeared to be almost as tall as her. And couldn't guess how long they would lay or stand. Their overwhelming size gave her an idea. But it was a daring one and one she didn't feel right about doing.

"Freki! Go to the door." She ordered the pup away so she could concoct her plan.

"Hastur! What the hell are you doing? Get out! Fuck this place!"

The cleric unsheathed her blade with a twirl. The mage took her stance. Right foot forward. Left leg bent. Weight placed forward. Eyes locked. Enemy incoming. She licked her lips and made her prayer.

_ "Oghma. Lord of Wisdom. Grant me the knowledge to drive these foul abominations back to the hellscape they belong. May your light shine and burn away all that corrupts. In your sacred name I pray. With your divine power, guide my strike!"_

The spider charged forward. It opened its pincers wide brandishing a disgusting drooling maw. The soulless black eyes reflected the sheer terror that the mage felt. The arachnid raised one of its bone like legs into the air and went for a piercing strike. Its fangs dripped with poison. Saliva pooled on the stone slab floor underneath. The half elf side stepped away and lunged her blade into the skull of the spider. It gave an agonizing hiss when she twisted her diamond shaped blade and lunged harder.

The cleric grit her teeth together. With all her might she pressed hard to thrust the blade into her foe. The creature thrashed around a bit, but collapsed. Relief doused the mage, but her joy was short lived. From behind the dead monster came a volley of more hisses and more bone-like legs pining to taste the flesh of the one who managed to kill one of their own.

From the puncture wound where the half elf's blade impaled and killed the first spider, an ooze of green blood and slime sizzled its way out. The area around the blade began to char and smolder. Hastur ducked around the corner to the pathway. Fearing the full power of Oghma's smite, she curled into a ball.

The last thing she heard before the explosion was the hiss of the spiders, a loud explosion followed by the heat of an inferno. Then the dying squeals of burning spiders. And that dreaded silence. An high pitched ringing took the cleric's ears. Her head felt as though it had cotton stuffed inside. She couldn't think straight. She could only watch as thick black smoke rolled out of the path way. In what seemed like a while she suddenly remembered the spiders. But since there wasn't any sign of them advancing from the hallway, she could only assume she won.

From the smoke plume, Thaelin reemerged into the chamber coughing on the noxious smell of charred chitin and bone.

*ach, ach* "Hast, you okay?"

Covered in soot, the cleric stirred from her cover, coughing from the smoke and disgusting smell. "Y- *ach, ach*-yeah. Yeah. I'm alive."

The ranger swatted the smoky air from his face. "As cool as that was, I really hope you killed all them creepy-crawlers."

The man offered a hand and helped the cleric to her feet. She staggered slightly and when she got her bearings, the panic set in.

"Where is Freki? Where is my sword?"

In a calm voice the man placed a hand on her shoulder. "The dog is fine. He was outside when you literally put the fear of the gods in those spiders." at his feet the little dog came running up to its master.

Hastur scooped the little pup into her arms. The puppy's tongue lapped away a small portion of the soot on her cheek. "What about my sword?" she said creating another orb of light in her hand to guide her way into the smoldering pathway. Buried under a pile of ash and blackened carapace was the still shining bits of steel and polished brass.

To her amazement the blade was in pristine condition. Even after being at the epicenter of such an act of a divine smite, the blade was cold to the touch. The mage gave the sword a flick before returning it to her sheath.

"Should we continue?" she asked in a nervous tone

Thaelin gave an indecisive shrug. The man scratched at his beard and poked his head into the pathway "Hey! Creepy-crawlers! You all dead yet?" with a flamboyant flair, he cupped his ear and listened for any sign of life still coming from within.

"I guess it should be safe."

Once the duo got pass the overwhelming smell of burnt bone and arachnid, they continued on down the hall as they did before. Thaelin took point and disappeared into the dark once again. With a nervous hand, the mage fetched her elven dagger and took shallow steps into the unknown. There were no signs of rats or more giant spiders that she could see, save for the increase of cobwebs along the floor.

Not too long curtains of cobwebs covered the walls and the mage tugged her cloak close so it wouldn't catch any of the disgusting

"HASTUR! HELP ME!"

The cry made the mage nearly leap in fear. Without second thought, the cleric jumped into action. She charged ahead into the darkness clutching her dagger in one hand, and Freki's leash in the other.

At the mouth of the next chamber, her skin crawled fiercely. The whole room was covered in massive strands of spider webs. Clusters cocooned in the webbing littered the dirt floor. And high above hanging spread eagle in the center of a massive web on the cave wall

"Get me the fuck out of this thing!" cried the huntsman.

"Thaelin? How did you get up there?"

"If I knew, don't you think I would have gotten off this damn death trap? Get me down dammit!"

Hastur looked around the cavern and tried to find a quick and easy way of rescuing her comrade "Okay, okay. Just stay there

The ranger furled his terrified brow at the statement "Stay there? Are you kidding me? How fucking cliché? Next I bet you're going to say "How's the weather up there?"

A sly smirk did cross her lips at the thought of it. "Well, now that you mention it, how is the weather up there

"Rainy!" he said spitting a glob of saliva down as it landed at the mage's feet. "Now help me before it turns to a fucking downpour!"

The mage waltzed around the cobwebbed chamber looking for any sign of a way she could climb to cut him loose without getting caught herself. She looked above to the web Thaelin was fastened to and noticed that one of the corners was wrapped around a stalagmite. A sure strike there may cause the whole web-work to collapse.

"Thaelin! I have an idea. Hang on."

Hang on? More cliché puns! I swear when I'm out of this thing I'm going t-

In one precise slash, the mage's sword struck through the thick spider silk and a dozen taught silk cords came undone. Each string plucked into a cacophony of cords snapping followed by the huntsman screams as he fell and struck the rocky wall.

Ouch! Son of a b-, damn it!" on his last thud down landed square on his back and crashed through a web sack of scores of tiny spider hatchlings sprawling out. Each the size of a mouse. The swarm scattered about making for any safe haven they could find from the viscous giants.

"Oh gods! Why me?" he shrieked flailing his arms trying to brush the hatchlings off him "I fucking hate spiders!"

Even Hastur stomped a jig trying to kill as many as she could. Drenched in a cold sweat, the ranger stomped on the last spider that was near. A shiver went all throughout him as he turned to his partner trying to hold in a laugh. She collected herself and gave the man a pursed lipped smile.

"Nice of you to drop by Thaelin." She remarked losing her control over her laughter

"Fuck off! Because of that, you are taking point. Now hurry up so we can get out of this gods forsaken shit heap of a dungeon."


	27. Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Dungeon Crawl **Part III**

The ranger brushed off the remaining strands of cobwebs clinging to his doublet and followed the little mage onward. His hand on his bollock dagger and his eyes primed for spotting any unseen danger in the dark.

More twisting and turning pathways lead the duo deeper into the bowels of the mountain. After the dangers of the zombies and spiders, they dreaded the idea of what lay ahead. From the note on the map they had passed the Orchard, traveled the Serpents Path, slain the Weavers, and now must read from the Pool of Stars. Somehow that last task sounded easy and yet more frightening.

After what felt like a half hour of traversing the path, inching closer and closer to the next chamber, the ranger's keen hearing picked up the sound of a babbling brook echoing through the tunnel.

"Hey, do you hear that?" The huntsman whispered after tapping the mage on the shoulder

Water. We must be close."

"If we are fighting a kraken, I'm leaving this fucking place. This damn dungeon can keep its treasure."

Hastur gave a nervous gulp. She curled her fingers on the hilt of her rapiers and continued on. Sweat puddled on her forehead. She pushed herself forward. One hand on her sword, the other holding an orb of magical light to guide her way. When she reached the end pf the tunnel, her jaw struck the floor.

A massive cavern decorated in similar stone buttress trees all around the rotunda. In all four cardinal directions, an elven face was carved into the trunk of the trees with their chiseled lips pouring a gentle stream of water into a large cistern that hugged the Southern most edge of the cavern. Above the faces was a carving of a phases of the moon. Full, half, crescent, and new. The water below the surface looked inky black, but miraculously shone any reflection. In the cavern ceiling hexagon shaped crystals jutted out like stalactites. The sweet aroma of rain filled the adventurer's nostrils.

This...this is beautiful!" Hastur said basking in the wonder of her ancestors.

"I'll admit" Thaelin said cocking his head to the side "Its impressive."

Freki bolted ahead and jumped into the pool. He splashed and paddled his little self through the mystical waters. A look of glee took his muzzle.

"Freki! Get back here! There could be a monster in there!"

The little hound whimpered before paddling himself back to its master. Once back at Hastur's side it shook itself free from the water.

"Dummy." the mage laughed placing a hand atop the dogs damp head.

Thaelin waltzed around the chamber admiring the stonework done by the elves. It was lively. All the small ripples that would be seen on normal tree bark was meticulously carved into the stone. Even the leaves on the branches looked fragile enough to fall off at the slightest touch. But in his investigation of the chamber her failed to spot any signs of treasure

"Hey Hast! So what do we do now?"

Freki whined when Hastur's embrace abandoned his scratching his head for retrieving the elven map from her satchel. The mage unfurled the scroll and read the final line once more.

"Read from the pool of Stars."

Thaelin furled his brow. How? We are under a mountain? There are no stars. Hastur looked around the chamber. She pulled her magic orb of light closer to the cistern but didnt see anything. Just her reflection.

"I...dont know."

The ranger raised his hands in exaggeration. 'Well great. Night fall isn't for six more hours. Are we really going to just sit here and wait?"

Hastur let out a annoyed sigh. "I guess so."

The mage reclined by the water's edge and tried to think. As simple as the note was. How could this task be so difficult. Read from the pool of the Stars. Obviously this was the pool, but when she looked into it. She couldn't see anything. This puzzle was starting to give her a headache

*Splash*

*splash*

*Splash*

The ranger scooped up another handful of pebbles and proceeded to toss them into the cistern. Since their dog didn't get eaten or dragged under by a massive tentacle, it was safe to assume there was no danger coming from the pool. And was free to cast stones in the meantime

*Splash*

*Splash*

*Splash*

*Click *

The last sound puzzled the ranger. It was hard to see, but from where he stood. It looked like his stone was floating right on top of the water.

Um, Hast?" he said dropping the rest of the pebbles

"What Thaelin?" she said rubbing her temples

"Why is that rock floating?"

The cleric looked across the pool and noticed the strange sight. It was a stone that was sitting perfectly on top of the water. In her wonder, about the confusing sight, she lost focus on her light spell and the chamber returned to darkness. Only for a while though.

From up above them, the stalactite crystals came alive glowing in a bright phosphorescent light that bathed the chamber in a soft blue light

At the pool. Hastur could see that the stone Thaelin threw was matching perfectly with the location of one of the crystals in the ceiling.

"They're stepping stones!" the mage said jumping to her feet! This way."

The cleric took Freki in her arms and used the pool as her guide. She too a brave step into the pool. Fulling expecting to get her feet wet, she was amazed that under her boot, was a firm surface. She pivoted herself to stand on the unseen stone and took another step. And then another. And another. From Thaelin's spot on the edge of the pool, he thought it to be some kind of magic. His partner was walking on water. It was only after taking his own first steps did he feel invigorated by feeling the first stepping stone underfoot.

The duo made their way across the pool and found an entrance to presumably the final chamber where their treasure could be located. The adventurers took their final steps from the chamber and followed a rocky path upwards. By their guess they had to be at the horn of the Anvil shaped mesa.

Another dark path took the do to their much desired but relatively disappointing treasure room. Hastur summoned another ball of light in her hand and gently tossed it in the air. The soft yellow orb floated to the ceiling and shined with the might of a dozen burning candles.

The chamber was partially empty. With the exceptions of a mural of dozen elven nymphs dancing on the walls. Minstrels played their flutes and harps. Farmers collected the bounty from stuccoed fruit trees emerging from the walls, just as the buttresses in the previous chambers.

Thaelin kicked the dirt. "Damn. There's no treasure."

Meanwhile Hastur was taken by the beauty of the room. A smile took her lips as she walked the walls admiring the beautiful faces of her ancestors, and their care free smiles, all living in the splendor of the world. No fear, no danger, and long before the humans came north and ruined their homes.

As Thaelin was moping his head picked up and his eyes scanned the walls. To due south a glimmer of light took his eye. Sitting a pedestal was a silver bowl with fresh apples inside and three small cloth bags each chewed on by centuries of moths and other rodents. Poking through a tattered corner of one of the cloth bags was a dusty yet shining piece of coinage.

"Wait! I smell treasure!" he said running to one of the bags. He ripped open the ancient cloth and his hands shook when a dozen gold and silver coins piled out into his palm. "Yes! Gold! Sweet gold! Oh I knew this dungeon crawl was going to be worth it!"

The cleric rolled her eyes and approached the other bags of coins. Unlike her friend, she gently untied the drawstring and took one of the triangular silver coins into her hand.

"Yeah, your rich but they're all worthless to you."

Thaelin's greedy smile shot to a melancholy frown.

"W-what?" he whimpered on the verge of tears

"These are _Elven_ coins. No merchant in the North or South will ever accept these as payment. They are useless everywhere except the in the Far North."

The triangle and square shaped coins fell from the huntsman's hand. He stood still as his head hung low. After a long sigh. He broke his silent brooding.

"GODS DAMN IT!" his voice echoed through the halls. The ranger stomped off and paced around the chamber cursing it's elven builders for leaving him a useless treasure.

Hastur pocketed the two remaining bags into her satchel then turned her attention to the pedestal. The silver vessel featured a wide bowl and a thin stem and a narrow base. Two handles near the mouth of the bowl were in the shape of a twisted wreath of wheat. And numerous workings of bare trees with twelve moon phases between the branches decorated the exterior. By her guess this artifact was a relic from a her tribe. The Children of the Moon.

But most importantly what caught her interest was why and how were there several red and ripe apples sitting inside the bowl thats been locked away for centuries. The cleric hunched over the pedestal and pondered the mystery. Another great mystery is what wold happen if the bowl was removed. Or even an apple was removed. Surely another trap would trigger. Or for all they know , the apples could be poisoned.

Thaelin, finally cooling off after his disgruntled tirade came up beside and looked just as clueless as the half elf. "What is it?"

"Its a cylix." the mage said looking over the object in question. Her whispered reply matched her curiosity.

"It kind of looks like a bowl."

"That's what a cylix is, idiot. Its an elven bowl."

"Huh. Then why didn't you just say it was a bowl?"

The ranger unsheathed his bollock dagger and stabbed one of the apples from the vessel. To the cleric's protest he sliced it in half and took a bite. It crunched and squirted juice along the edge of his mouth.

"Not bad." he said shrugging his shoulders "tastes fine to me."

Hastur watched her friend slowly chew the apple slice and finally swallow. She balled her hand into a fist and swatted the man in the chest,

"YOU! IDIOT! That could have been poisoned or the change in weight could have triggered spikes to shoot from the walls! I cant believe you!"

The ranger unbuttoned his knapsack and lifted the cylix from its pedestal. Not a single care crossed his mind. He poured the remaining several apples into his knapsack and savored Hastur's disgust at his actions.

"What?"

"How are you not dead yet?"

"Lady luck must like me." he smirked

Whilst the duo argued Hastur looked down to snatch the cylix from the fool's hand when she saw the most wondrous sight. The silver basin was filled once more with a bushel of fresh apples.

"By Oghma!"

Thaelin grinned at the magical vessel. "This, this is going to totally pay for my lack of treasure. If only it was a bottomless beer mug instead of a endless fruit basket"

Hastur sidestepped while cradling the cylix in one arm. "Like Hells you are going to sell this! You said I can keep whatever treasure we find. Im keeping this

"B-but its shiny! And we can sell it!" his protests fell on deaf ears. There was no chance to change the half elf's mind.

Hastur cradled the vessel in her arms and made her way out of the dungeon. For the first time in a long while accomplishment made her smile shine brightly. She didnt want to mention it, but the apples did taste pretty great. Thankfully with this relic, they wont be going hungry in a long while.

And as for Thaelin, he collected the elven swords from the defeated zombies in the Orchard chamber and tied them into his blanket bedroll. It wasn't a magical silver bowl, but the collection of elven swords sold to his information broker, could help pay his expenses with a little profit.


	28. Chapter 27

Chapter 28: Pitch-Black

Darkness. The envoy of all mystery and fear. In any of its many forms, all sorts of vileness can be conducted in peace. No matter the subject, the act, or the scheme. In darkness, all is protected by its cloak.

Through the valley of eternal night, a form of pseudo-light pierced the blackness that suffocated this realm. The only material form was a floating rocky crag with the outlines of a king's throne room on top.

Grey uniformly cut stones made up the floor of the floating island. Similar stone buttresses outlined the edge of where the walls would be and stretched upwards to support the nothing up above. The tall spines of the buttresses resembled that of the bars to a cage. Two large rust speckled iron braziers filled the island with a regal purple light. The flames in the braziers were no bigger than a small match stick's light, yet it produced an immense inferno's worth of heat and light into the chamber.

A dark wood throne chair sat atop a raised chancel between two braziers. The seat featured carvings of flowing spirals coming out of a skull with its cranium split in two. And there sat atop the crown was him. The King.

His thin fingers tapped on the armrest. His crowned head supported by a bent arm. He let out a sigh before yelling into the night world

"_SARAMA!_" His voice thundered and rolled through the abyssal expanse of the Dark Realm. The ruler's fingers tapped faster and impatiently while waiting for his servant to beckon forth.

Towards where the entrance to the throne room would be, came a glob of green mass oozing up between the cracks in the stone tiles. Once it pooled together it slithered across the floor and stopped before the steps to the chancel. The gelatinous mass rose into a thin column that soon took the form of a feminine figure clad in a thinly weaved sheer robe. Its gauze like fibers failed to conceal much to the eye. The new figure knelt before it's master.

"You called, my Lord?" Spoke the woman with a sly tone. Her eyes glowed in a bright green shimmer.

The king's fingers snapped and the purple lights shifted to a pale blue. Despite the change in light. The flames in the braziers still retained their diminutive size.

"I'm _so_ bored!" the ruler moaned shifting in his seat to where he swung his crossed legs over the left arm of the chair and leaned his back against the right arm. He tilted his head back and hummed a jovial tune.

"Would you wish for me to fetch the gladiators? A gory disembowelment always perks up your mood, my Lord."

"No, No. I've watched the slaves kill each other for millennia now. I wish for something different." He said returning to his previous sitting position. Depression wrapped itself around the ruler's core. In an instant all of his bones seemed to melt under his skin and the King's body liquidated into a gelatinous pool in the seat of his throne.

The servant's face contorted with concern. "My Lord, please pull yourself together. I can't stand to see you like this."

A gurgling sound bubbled from the puddle in the throne.

The servant stood to her feet hunched over in thought. "Hmm…perhaps interfering in the lives of mortals will be the entertainment you seek."

"I guess." The monarch said growing from his limp form back into his more human shape. As he returned into a man, the sounds of sinews, tendons and bones snapped back into existence. It was a sickening sound and to any mortal, it would be absolutely horrendous to watch.

Samara clapped her hands together and from the same doorway she entered, a silver streak slithered its way towards the two. Similar to how the servant woman took her form, the silver streak rose to a column, but then took the shape of a large silvered mirror that floated in mid-air.

The king stood from his throne. He wiped his hand over the surface of the mirror. Creating a scrying portal. The portal scoured across the mortal world until it focused on a small vignette within a humble human village.

"Now how can we improve the lives of these mortal's?" cooed Sarama

The king hummed and paced around his throne. "Oh!" he said pushing the throne aside to return before the portal. "I have a wondrous idea!"

The portal looked down onto a quaint scene inside a log cabin where a grandmother sat in her rocking chair. Quietly knitting a scarf for her sleeping grandchild in the corner of the room. The king pinched the small flame from one of his braziers and plucked the flame away. Like a child ripping the wings off a fly, the King tore a small portion of the flame in half and held it between his bony fingers. He returned the other portion of the flame back to the brazier. The blue flame continued to burn away from its fuel source. He closed one eye to line up the perfect shot. In one flick, the flame transported through the portal and landed into the cozy fireplace.

All of a sudden, the fireplace erupted into a massive blaze. The grandmother jumped to life. She screamed as the wall of blue flames danced out of the hearth catching anything the flames touched became alit. Thick smoke grandchild cried as the grandmother desperately tried to douse the flame with a basin. But when the water reached the base of the flame, the blazed only burned brighter. Smoke engulfed the room. The old woman choked as smoke filled her lungs. Seeing how futile it was to quell the blaze, she chose to abandon the cabin tried to rescue the screaming babe.

The child wailed from the intense heat. The two human's skin began to burn and darken. The grandmother tugged with all her might at the door, but it wouldn't budge. Nothing. As a last resort, the woman prayed to the pantheon of every god who's name she knew. Begging them all to save her grandchild from such a fate. But an intervention never came.

Outside the cabin, a steady stream of gentle white smoke with a slight pink hue bellowed from the chimney. No signs of the blaze could be seen, smelled, or heard. Not even the panicked cries of help from inside were heard. Within minutes everything in the room was reduced to char or ash. The blackened remains of a woman could be seen trying to shield an infant from the flames.

The two onlookers reveled in the chaos and death they witnessed. The King's mood had shifted from a mopey mess to a bright devious smile.

"Your turn!" Laughed the king

The two took turns casting spells into the mirror. this game continued for hours. Across the mortal realm, they unleashed chaos. Merely for the sake of relieving the king's boredom. It didn't matter who or what they tormented. If it breathed or could be broken. It had the potential of having pain caused to it. Inciting violence, creating demonic abominations to wreak havoc, and to

"There! Beat that!" Boasted the king. Watching a knight flail his sword around mercilessly into the center of a busy marketplace. Slaying grotesque visions that plagued his mind and butchering the local populace.

"I think I have the perfect toy to play with." Grinned the servant. Sarama opened her hand. From her hand a mass of black slime grew and took the shape of an evil looking knife. "This will cure your boredom for years to come, my Lord." She said grabbing the knife by the blade and tossing it through the portal.

The monarch crossed his arms like a pouting child "And how exactly will knife solve this dreadful boredom?"

"Just watch."


	29. Chapter 28

Chapter 31: In Dire Times

The bell tower of Hayak's Monastery rang in a cacophony of hurried chimes. The ringing of the bells was so distressing that Freki began to bark and whine creating a chorus of chaos.

Thaelin rolled on his side and folded his pillow over his head in an attempt to drown out those insufferable bells and barking.

"Gods damnit! Hast, tell your friends to silence those damn bells or I am going to kick every one of their holy asses!"

Unbeknownst to the ranger, Hastur joined in in the rush. She hastily threw on her clothes, slid an armful of potions into her satchel, she cursed as she struggled to belt on her rapier.

"That's not a call to worship! That's an alarm. I have to go!"

"Oh, okay cool. Just tell them the ass thing while you're out." The man grumbled before falling back to sleep.

The streets were dotted with onlookers. Craftsman from the forge district abandoned their shops to watch the procession of every healer, scholar, and mage alike don their brightly colored robes and flock to the monastery doors.

At the main gate to the grounds, Hastur noticed a troubling sight. The mother superior was standing next to the door ushering those inside. Whatever was the matter, must truly be a grave scenario.

"Mother Superior! What happened" Hastur managed after she huffed up the steps

The matrons stone-like face had a minor expression of worry etched on her wrinkled face. "Sister Prynn. There is a meeting in the Chapel. Go there with the others, now.

'Things must truly be in utter disarray' the cleric thought

On the Monastery grounds, the Chapel, contained just as much grandeur as the rest of the complex. Standing roughly 70 feet from base to spire, the chapel was a prideful jewel that the city held dear. Many a royal ceremony had been help in its sacred walls. Tall arching stained glass windows depicted scenes of divine compassion, heroic tales, and beautiful songs.

Teams of officials from every 'faction' within the Monastery sat in the front pews close to the alter. Hastur's dear friend in the medical wing sat and offered the half elf a seat next to her.

"Shae, whats going on?"

The young surgeon pursed her lips. There was much she wanted to say, but couldn't out of a vow of silence before the meeting.

The mage took her friends silence as a sign of some foreboding revelation to be explained by the Matron herself.

The doors to the Chapel exploded open and in walked the clanking bits of armor belonging to the preening band of Militia officers. Leading their charge was Sir Minot, a bald headed warrior with a curved scar on his upper lip and hulking suit of plate armor strapped across his body. Behind him was a young man of about 26 with flowing black hair in similarly dressed armor. His pointed chin held high while he walked. Behind the two officers was an entourage of other Militia soldiers including that Blue Haired bitch, Varris Harth.

Hastur sunk in her seat at the sight of the Sergeant. She prayed that the sergeant didnt notice her.

With the final attendees gathered for the conference, in strode the Matron. In her shallow gate, all in the chapel lowered their heads in reverence to the Holy Woman. The bottoms of her black gown, and marigold wimple fluttered behind her in each short step.

"You may be seated." she said taking to the lectern "I have called this gathered you all to address a very pressing matter at hand. Blood has been spilled in our fair city."

The congregation of officials muttered to themselves. And amongst the rank of the Militia, a man shot from his seat, unable to quell his fury. "There is nothing to fear, Mother Superior! The Militia will find the culprit and drag the wretch to the Light!"

Others in the Militia ranks cheered and hollered at the outburst.

The matron raised an open palm and the crowd went silent.

"Several victims have been discovered over the course of the week. Each in grotesque states that are too troubling to mention. Now, I will invite Sister, Shae Wren to deliver her postmortem findings.

"On cue Shae stood at her place in the pews, cleared her throat and produced a parchment to read off her findings.

In a total of six known deaths, the cadavers have been discovered in the most twisted and mangled positions like the Mother Superior has mentioned. There were no defensive wounds, multiple lacerations, and most troubling is that the remains were devoid of most amounts of blood-"

"-VAMPIRES!" Roared a Militia member "Matron! The Militia will slay these beasts in your honor! Those abominations shall pay dearly for stepping a clawed foot in Hayak!"

Once again the ranks erupted in cheers like rabid hounds baying to be set loose.

"Sir Minot, silence your soldiers!" ordered the Matron

On command, the bald knight raised a gauntleted fist and his underlings all

"Now then," sighed The matron "Sister Wren, please continue."

"In my conclusion, Matron, it does seem to be the work of vampires. But further investigation could be needed to discover an identity."

"Sadly time is a sensitive matter. I have already spoken with the Duke and he has signed off on the pursuit. Sir Minot, you gather your warriors and see to it that this threat is dealt with quickly."

The knight's armor shifted as he stood into a gleaming tower. "Of course, my Lady." he said giving the Mother Superior a crisp salute. "The Faithful shall work tirelessly until all foes of Hayak have been slain."

Hastur's heart sank even deeper. She saw a viscous smile take the lips of every Militia soldier seated. A torrent erupted within the cleric. In the past she had heard stories of The Militia's unbridled wrath in times of conflict. And after having first-hand experience of what one could do to her, she feared for the city when all that blind fanaticism to be unleashed.

"Mother Superior! She declared rising to her feet. "You cant allow the Militia to go into the city. They will destroy everything in their path and drag anyone they even suspect to a dungeon cell."

Sir Minot shifted in his armor and gave a confident and antagonistic smile to the cleric for her outburst. "Oh? Then please, tell us, dear Ward. How would you go about apprehending the culprits, little healer?"

Hastur could feel all the rage filled eyes of the Militia fall on her. And Verris' could be felt burning the hottest.

"A task like this requires the upmost of tact and skill. Perhaps...a bounty hunter is what we need for this job. Not a group of hammers."

Mother Illisa smiled at her ward. She had true spirit to speak out against such an unmovable force like the Militia, especially to its primaris. "And prey tell, Sister Prynn. How would you recommend we go about finding the culprits.

Hasturs heart beat as fast as a horse in a dead sprint. She felt every eye scrutinize her with ever next word that would leave her lips. The mage gave a nervous swallow before continuing

"No offense, Sir Minot, but the Militia are like dogs let from their leashes-"

the knight crossed his arms and gave a softened smiled at the remark. His underlings on the other hand glared heavily. Some even growling with hushed annoyance.

"-If we let the Militia loose in the city, they will break into homes, shackle anyone they even suspect is a killer, and will destroy whatever they want to get their job done. They have no control-"

The Sergeant of the militia let out a heavy audible grumble as the Cadet continued her one-sided assessment of their order. She brushed her bright blue hair from covering her right eye.

"-Personally, I feel that there are more well capable people that can bring the culprits to justice!"

Sir Minot brought his hand to his chin. From his body language, the Matron Mother could tell even a stubborn anvil of a man like him was actually interested in her Ward's debate.

"And pray tell, Sister Prynn, how would we go about doing this?"

"We...we cold hire bounty hunters. There are lots of them in the city. Im sure they could even catch the culprits in minutes with great ease."

The knight scoffed at the idea with a sarcastic laugh "So you wish for Hayak to empty its coffers and let untrustworthy thugs for hire to roam the streets bringing crook in and claim they are the culprit? Your idea is admirable, Sister Prynn, but this task is best suited for the most loyal and fierce warriors to find these bloodsucking wretches."

The entourage stood to their feet and cheered in a boastful chorus.

Growing annoyed, the Matron raised a hand to lull the paladins.

"I personally know a bounty hunter who is more than capable to remove this threat from the city.

Intrigue caught Minot like a baited hook "Who then do you think is more skilled than any of my warriors?"

"Thaelin Fridulf. A ranger from Aldrick."

The sergeant trembled in her seat. Her blood boiled over into a fury unlike any seen by her Order. The warrior slammed her hand into the backrest of the pew in front of her, taking a good sized chip of wood in the strike. Her armor shifted as she stormed out of her seat

"NO! NOT HIM! I WILL BEHEAD THAT MAN BEFORE HE STEPS ONE FOOT ON OUR GROUNDS!"

The walls of the chapel shook and a powerful roar of voice The holy woman's voice amplified tenfold and drove terror and awe into the souls of her council

"**SILENCE**!" spoke the Matron.

When the shock of her might faded, the Wise Crone cleared her throat to delegate further.

"Sir Minot. Remove your underlings this instant, or so help me I will silence them myself."

Without word from their lord, the warriors all stood, saluted the Matron, and exited the chapelwith precise movements. As she marched off, the sergeant looked back at Hastur. The gaze of sheer disgust filled her sight.

Braving the risk of the Mother Illisa's ire, Hastur took a bold step forward.

"Matron, I beg of you. Dont let the militia loose." the cleric begged as she fell to her knees "If a bounty hunter cant catch the killers before nightfall, than...t-than...I'll relinquish my title as your ward and leave the Monastery!"

The chapel went as silent as the grave.

Mother Illisa's wrinkled face pouted into a frown "Do you truly feel this strongly that you would risk your livelihood as my pupil, Sister Prynn?

"Y-yes ma'am. I know The bounty hunter can do it!I've accompanied him for numerous Bounty missions and every time, he had captured his fugitive alive to be brought to the fullest extent of justice."

The woman nodded her head. Though her face was unreadable as stone, Hastur took the expression as to mean she were contemplating the idea. It wasnt much but it was a glimmer of hope.

"Sir Minot." the crone turned to address the knight "Have you any remarks to be made for this man?"

"Aye, Matron. His Reputation speaks volumes to his profession. But it shouldn't be overlooked that the man is a scoundrel. A drunkard. And a whore-monger."

"And Sister Prynn. Do you attest to these claims?"

The Half elf grit her teeth. There was no chance to lie to her, or any other official in the Chapel. "The claims...are true, ma'am. But he is a good man at heart. He can do this."

The Matron closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. By her judgment, monsters could be allowed to walk the streets and if she would back her ward's compatriot, then the monastery's reputation would hang on the edge of a notorious miscreant.

Hastur leaned in close. Her heart stung in anticipation for the final verdict. She prayed Oghma to give the wise woman the wisdom to hear her words.

"So be it. The Huntsman shall be given the opportunity. But if he fails to kill or capture those responsible within 24 hours. The Militia shall embark into the streets. May the Gods be in your compatriots favor, Sister Prynn."

The young cleric's heart sprung in joy and relief. She wanted to jump but priority took affect. Instead she bowed her cloaked head.

"Thank you, Mother Illisa."

Sir Minot nodded and gave the Matron a crisp salute. She performed an about-face and exited the chapel. Just before he reached the door, Hastur's cloak fluttered by in a yellow blur.


	30. Chapter 29

Chapter 29: Grim Revelations

"What do you mean I'm not going to be paid?"

The cleric swatted the ranger on the back of the head. Her light footsteps swiftly followed him as he made his way down the stairwell."You have to be kidding me! I put _my _honor and _my title_ on the line and _you_ wont take the damn job because you wont be paid? You selfish asshole!"

The bounty hunter and their young dog fled down the stairs eager to spend an evening on the town. And to get away from the disgruntled cleric. With every step, she followed imploring Thaelin to act, but his answer was resolute.

"Hast, let me tell you, I never have and never will accept a job for free."

"It's a simple job! Catch a killer. You have done hundreds of these before. Why not now?"

"_Free_ doesn't put food in my belly, Hast. Now if you excuse me, I have a dinner date with this hot maid in a few minutes."

"I will lose everything! My job, my reputation, and my title as Mother Illissa's pupil! But you wont do it because of your stupid pride? You- _Hu U-gaun!_"

Not one second out the door, the ranger and cleric froze in equal parts fear as they both looked across the street from their building.

"Oh Gods, no!" they whispered in unison

Leaning up again the lamppost was a figment of both their nightmares. Plain clothed in a pastel tan blouse, tight black leather trousers, and a large falchion sword belted to her waist. The figure uncrossed her arms and approached the duo.

Even Freki sensed the danger coming from the figure and backtracked to cower behind his masters.

"Me too, buddy." The ranger put before plastering on a false face of confidence to cross the street. He felt like a knight about to fight a viscous beast. His assessment wasn't that far off tho. For this beast was the most dangerous he had ever crossed.

"Hi _My_\- *Slap* -_Shka_…" he managed to say as he blocked a second backhanded slap coming to his cheek

"You have some nerve being alive!" Varris growled readying her hand for another slap

"I see your hitting has gotten better. Perhaps later we could _hit_ it off over dinner?" Retorted the ranger

To the cleric, it was remarkable to see a paladin not wear their armor. But even without all the sheets of plate metal, the warrior was still overly intimidating. Without all that weight, Varris was free to move faster and possibly hit stronger. Just the girth around Varris' forearms was displayed how much more adept in combat the cleric ever was.

She looked down to Freki who looked severely unnerved by the new guest. "Freki, stay here. We'll be back as soon as possible "

The little hound turned to the front stoop of their building and plopped down under the shade. Hastur took a quick breath to build up the courage to interject in their squabbling

"What are you doing here, Varris?"

"Sir Minot has ordered me to shadow your _bounty hunter, _Cadet. To see if he falls in line and in the highly off chance, to watch him succeed. The second he falls out of line and fail though, I'm to drag him to a prison cell."

"I take it conjugal visits wont be allowed in that case?" Thaelin remarked dryly "Well since I don't have any other option, I guess I will do it then. But only if you give me a kiss by tonight, _Myshka._"

"No!"

"Varris! Just do it." pleaded the mage

Varris sneered at Thaelin's cocky grin "Catch the monsters, and _maybe_ I wont kill you tonight."

"Okay," he laughed

"Great!" Cheered Hastur. this wasn't how she expected their bounty job to go, a third wheel like Varris was surely going to cause trouble, but it got Thaelin to change his mind. "What is your first move Thaelin? Question witnesses? Use some hidden Ranger Skill?"

The hunter sighed before pacing off "Step one. Look for clues. Where they keeping the bodies, _Myshka_?"

"The remains would be in the Necropolis under the Monastery. The morticians and surgeons of the Monastery have investigated the remains and prepare them for funeral rites."

"Then lead the way, _Myshka_."

While she lead the duo to the monastery, Thaelins eyes wandered and watched Varris' hips sway with every step she took. Not long after Varris took the lead, she stopped abruptly in the street. She could feel his eyes gazing on her butt.

"If you don't stop looking at my ass, I _will _rip your eyes out of your head.

"Well in that case, do you mind waiting a minute? I want to put the last thing I see to memory." The man said with a sly grin

The paladin's finger bones cracked as they formed a fist.

Hastur created one of her magical light shields between the two. "Enough you two. I will take the lead. Now just try and not kill each other in the meantime."

Built into the foundations of the Monastery, a catacomb basement contained the mortuary, crematorium, and funerary services for Hayak's departed. A winding staircase brought the three underground to the formaldehyde smelling Hall of the Dead. The main chamber was large and full of support columns which contained many oil lanterns to guide the morticians to their charges.

Standing with her back to the white robed cleric from the morning's meeting was performing her duties of

"Sister Shae," greeted Hastur. This is the ranger I mentioned earlier. Do you still have the remains of the most recent victim?

"So you are the drunken degenerate Hastur has told me so much about." the surgeon said with an odd smile.

Crunched for time, Thaelin chose to shrug off the remark and play his usual sarcastic approach. "I hope she only mentioned the good parts. Anyways point me towards the stiff."

"This way" the cleric guided.

Placed atop a stone alcove were the remains of the last victim. And to Thaelin's observations remains were what they truly were. A man about twenty years older than him lay on the cold stone. A white sheet draped over the man to hide the vast multitude of missing chunks of flesh, skin, and even fingers. Only a trained stomach could retain its contents while looking at such a grizzly scene.

Thaelin nodded at the numerous wounds. Deep scratches, bite marks near the hands,throat opened wide, and a gaping hole in the stomach cavity.

"And there wasn't any blood near the scene?" he asked looking closely at the neck area.

"There was some pooling on the ground, but the body appeared to have lost well over half its blood content." remarked the surgeon

Next to the remains sat the victims personal affects, a belt knife clean of any blood or sign of use, a coinpurse still hefty with its silver and copper contents and finally the tattered folded remnants of a man's tunic, breeches and foot coverings

"Were all the bodies like this?

"Many had varying levels of violence, but what connects them was the loss of blood." Replied the surgeon

"They were found at night?"

"No. At dawn, when the criers and lamplighters make their rounds.

"Hmm. So then the attacks happen at night."

Thaelin lowered his face closer to the body. And took note of what he saw.

_'The gut had the most carnage. Skin looks torn, scratched, and cut. Bite marks are egg shaped with thin markings. Perhaps humanoid. Another Ghoul?'_ Next he looked into the stomach cavity. It was a jumbled mess with all the innards just tossed back in not in their anatomical locations. '_That explains the blood staining. All his meaty bits were dragged out…and bitten. Doesn't look like a_ _rabid dog_.'

Two sets of watchful eyes stood away watching the man at work. They could overhear some of their discussions. Varris tapped her fingers impatiently against her crossed arms.

"He is wasting our time." she grumbled

Hastur pivoted and crossed her own arms in a similar fashion "He is doing fine. What's your problem with him anyway?"

"He is an ass. The most useless man I have ever met in my life."

"Care to elaborate? Thaelin may have his moments, but he's a nice guy. And certainly a better person than you?"

"Wanna say that to my face, Cadet?" the paladin growled looking down at the cleric

A sly smirk took the mage's lips "How about we go up to the training grounds and we watch you lose to me a second time."

Before the first blows could be made, an exaggerated cough attempted to defuse the situation.

"Excuse me!" Hollered the ranger "If you two holy pains in the ass are done praying at each other's altars, its kind of hard to focus here over the sound of your petty bitch-fest."

Hastur took a step away and turned her nose up to the paladin. "Sorry"

Varris grumbled under her breath as she paced off across the chamber.

Satisfied with his examination and clue gathering, Thaelin wiped his hands on his trousers and lead the duo above ground.

"Well?" Hastur demanded

"Well what?"

Hastur rolled her eyes at his ever present impetuous behavior. "Well, what did you find out?

"You're dealing with some crazy shit." Laughed the ranger. His head cocked back as he walked the halls of the Monastery and began to sing one of his vulgar tunes.

"_The four and twentieth day of May, of all days of the year, sir,_

_A virgin lady, fresh and gay, did privately appear, sir._

_Hard by a riverside got she, and did sing loud, the rather,_

_For she was sure she was secure, and had intent to bath her."_

A firm hand grabbed the ranger by the throat and slammed him into the tan stoned wall. The paladin dug her fingers into his neck feeling his beard stubble prod her. Thaelin gasped

"I…always…knew…you….were into…choking…_myshka_, but-

"I've had enough of this!" roared Varris "You think you can come to these grounds, do as you please, and desecrate it with your putrid singing? I don't know why the Mother Superior even entertained the idea that you could do anything close to work. You worthless, drunken, shit!"

The two exchanged more insults and witty remarks before Hastur had enough.

"Varris!"

The paladin and her victim looked to the side and saw the yellow cloaked mage glaring at them. Her elven dagger drawn and poised in a high stance. In her free hand the pale green shine of a magical spell resonated.

"Put. _Him_. Down." The cleric ordered

The paladin shoved the man against the wall before taking a few steps away.

"Now. Thaelin, you have your research. What do we do now?"

"Now," groaned the ranger as he tried to stretch the ache away from his back "Now, we go get a drink."


	31. Chapter 30

Chapter 30:

Across town, the double doors to The Weathered Wheel swung open and in walked the three. The Ranger led the way and took a seat at the bar; The cleric stood a few feet back eager to see if this was not just one of his attempts to stall and start drinking; While the paladin took a quick around the tavern and scrunched her nose at the disgusting locale

"What a disgusting heap." Sneered the paladin

Piles of sawdust covered the floor to soak up mysterious spills. A musty odor hung in the air, good layer of grime seemed to cover everything. In Varris' mind, it was rather fitting that the ranger would be drawn to a pile like this place.

"Oi Thaelan!" greeted the Halfling barkeeper "How ya been, mate? Care for a pint?"

"Hey Fink. No thanks." He said placing a hand over the tankard placed in front of him "I'm working. You seen anything weird lately?"

"Weird? Hmm. Can't really say I've seen anything off at all. Well, other than some tall bimbo coming into my establishment and calling it a shite hole." Laughed the Halfling

Varris charged ahead and grabbed the little man by his shirt collar. His smiling little face didn't shift at all during the man-handling.

"Listen to me you pint-sized puke! You are interfering with official Militia business! Now cut the jokes and talk-"

"-No, _you_ listen to me." The Halfling put with a look of superiority in his slim brown eyes. "I don't have to take anything from a pretentious skank like you. You pathetic paladins are all the same. Without all that armor on, your just as easy to stab like the rest of us. Now how about you put me down, and I don't rightly carve a hunk of ham from yer fat arse."

Under her chin, Varris felt the sharp poke of a dagger touching her skin. She was surprised that the Halfling had the gall to pull a knife on her, but was even more impressed he was able to draw a blade without her or even Thaelin noticing.

Thaelin let out a long sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose "Myshka, put the nice man down before you do something stupid."

The paladin did as she was told. Slow and steady, as to not make the Halfling's knife hand slip and end up cutting her throat. Once freed, the barkeep spun the blade around in his hand and returned it to a sheath hidden under his shirt sleeve

"Now apologize." The Huntsman added

Rather than swallow her pride, Varris spun on the balls of her feet and exited the tavern.

"Sorry Fink. You know paladins. Anyways I need your help…" the rest of their conversation took place in a fast paced language Hastur and Varris couldn't understand.

When the two concluded their discussion they shared a firm handshake. The ranger made sure to flash Varris a flirtatious wink as he strolled by.

"Wait! What did he say?" begged Hastur

"Fink says that we're looking for a dwarf." Answered the man with a yawn. He slowed his pace to allow the women to catch up and talk while he walked.

"A dwarf?"

"Yup. A dwarf in the Forge District. Now that I got your intel, how about that kiss, _Myshka_?" he said puckering his lips.

The paladin raised her powerful arm up and held the man's smoochng lips away. "A dwarf in the Forge District, is like finding a needle in a hay stack. Do you have any idea how long that will take us?"

The ranger frowned at his dear's constant negativity. "Hastur. Pop quiz. On the latest body, did you see where most of the wounds were located?"

Feeling the spotlight on her, the mage cleared her throat before answering. As much as she didn't want to look at the mangled remains, she did notice much carnage on the lower portions. "The stomach."

"Yup. Most the wounds were low on the body. Telling us the attacker was short. So...a dwarf is our most likely suspect. "

"But what about the missing blood?" asked the cleric "You said the attacks most likely happened at night. Only a vampire could have done it."

The ranger scratched at his beard. "Its only a hunch, but the psycho might be a cannibal,"

"Blood and organs are used in Necromantic rituals. We could be dealing with a seriously powerful wizard on our hands" added

"Dont be scared _Myshka_, we fought a necromancer before, remember?"

Remembering Thaelin's story made hastur smile, the thought of her losing their vulgar 'game' made her want to chuckle greatly. She hid her grin under her hood and tried to change the subject quickly. Time was still of the essence.

"Okay. So what do we do, Thaelin?"

Varris crossed her arms "-We should gather the Militia. We can warden off the Forge District and corner the rat in no time."

"How about we put that on the list of things _not_ to do _myshka? _If we do that, there's a chance he could catch word of the alarm and panic. I know criminals and if they even suspect something is up, they will bolt in an instant."

"So what do you just want to patrol the Forge district alone?"

"How about the three of us?" offered Hastur "I can take the south. Varris if you take the North and then Thaelin could pursue the West.

"This is a terrible idea." scoffed the paladin

The three looked on at the setting sun. That ominous orb lowering below the land and the creeping shadow of night trailing up. Their time was running out. The Forge District wasn't as big as it's counterpart, but it had more hiding corners.

The bounty hunter walked soft footed on the cobblestone trying not to alarm those nearby of his approach. The sun had set almost a half hour prior. And the city watch was beginning to ignite the streetlamps. The environment was perfectly to his favor. The darkness of the night helped conceal him. He had a better advantage when sneaking about to move more freely, it also helped a trait he was proud of, but not many knew he had. His darkvision caught the slight hints of light and appeared more clearly. Not many knew of this trick. It was one he was forced to obtain almost a lifetime ago in the darkness.

Towards the back of an alley between two blacksmith's shops, there was a glow of a small candle and a shadow of a black mass dancing across the walls. The closer the ranger approached the dark figure, the more macabre the scene unfolded. The disgusting sounds of slurping and lip smacking echoed down the alleyway. The closer he crept, the clearer his dark vision could make sense of the scene. There was a smaller figure kneeling down to a body. An old knife protruded from the corpse's chest. And the figures hands were reaching deep inside the corpse. The disturbing sounds of squishing sounds made the rangers stomach churn.

The wail of the ranger's bollock dagger being unsheathed grasped the dwarf's attention. A brushy black bearded dwarf with wild dilated eyes. Lurked over his shoulder and stated towards the ranger. The lunatic slurped up the last juicy bits of flesh and blood. The figure stared through the ranger. Not looking directly at him, but at something else. The dwarf wrenched the blade free from the corpse and brandished it towards the ranger. An eerie giggle echoed through the alley.

Knowing he no longer had the element of surprise, Thaelin shifted his stance and walked into the candle light. "Okay, asshole. Put down the knife or-"

Before Thaelin could continue his threat, the dwarf jostled forward with the dagger in hand. The ghoul made wild slashes toward the man's torso. Swiping left, right and thrusting forward with no exact target other than the man himself.

"Shit!" The man yelled jumping out of the way of the bloodied blade. He knew as erratic as the murders were, their fight may as well be worse off.

The Dwarf's violet eyes stared wildly at his opponent. The killer's bloody lips smiled as he broke his psychotic silence

"I can smell your blood!" hissed the assailant

"All I can smell is your crazy ass!" answered Thaelin drawing out his hand crossbow in his free hand.

The dwarf let out a painful wail before lunging again at the Thaelin. The ranger swiped away the incoming knife with his silvered blade and fired a bolt blindly at the dwarf. The bolt missed the lunatic but struck the stone wall behind him. The tiny arrow then ricochet off the wall and knocked over the candle extinguishing it in the victim's blood.

Deep down, Thaelin cursed, but now they finally, were on more even ground. Both of their dark vision allowed them to see each other in a spectrum of dim grey light.

Thaelin hastily reloaded his crossbow and used his ranger's skill to disappear into the darkness. The crazed dwarf looked around the alleyway franticly. Though the only thing he could see was shades of grey, he couldn't catch a single glimpse of the ranger.

The lunatic ducked his head just barely missing a well aimed bolt. With his wicked bloody smile, the dwarf charged into the shadows after the cause of the crossbow fire. In his panic, Thaelin dropped his crossbow before sidestepping away.

Once the blue shine faded from his eyes, his foe let out a soft giggle before he too meld into the darkness.

"Damn it!" Grunted the ranger looking around franticly for the unseen enemy. The sounds of footsteps paced through the dark alleyway "Show yourself asshole!" he yelled in annoyance

A sharp sting came from his right leg followed by vile laughter.

The voice continued to taunt the ranger from the darkness, just outside the range of his dark vision. The dwarf's tongue slithered out of his mouth and tasted the fresh blood gracing his evil dagger "Your blood. I-its…its…DELICIOUS!"

"God, you sure are a crazy fucker, ya know that?" Thaelin said grasping his leg. It didn't feel like that deep of a cut, but the wound was just burning badly. He tried to shrug off the pain before continuing his witty banter "I don't even want to know what kind of Oedipus complex type of stuff went down to make you this bat-shit nuts."

"I will feast upon your power!" snarled the dwarf chasing into the man's line of sight. Blade pointing toward his neck.

In one fluid motion, the ranger parried the blade and with his free hand, he caught the dwarf's arm, twisted it behind its back, tore the knife away and kicked the assailant away.

"You can feast upon my fist, freak."

The dwarf tumbled to the ground and wheezing in fatigue. He pat the ground around him "My knife! My knife! Where? Where is it?"

"Looking for this, asshole?" the ranger smirked flourishing the old blade in the air. "Nice blade. Maybe I'll kick your ass for cutting my leg.

"Give it back!" wailed the dwarf. "Its mine! Mine!"

like a deranged bull, the dwarf kicked at the dirt and snorted rabidly. Anticipating a ravenous strike for his opponent.

"Come take it!" Smirked the man gripping the blade tight ready to defeat the killer once and for all.

The murderer let out a sharp wail before charging blindly. Flailing his arms towards the thief. Before the dwarf was within striking distance a dome of silver light formed encasing the psychopath in a solid barrier. The dwarf's voice became muffled and the hushed booms of his hands banging against the silver dome.

"About time you two found me." Chucked the man. As he hugged his injured leg.

Down the alleyway came a squadron of hold guards holding torches that illuminated the alley into an orange glow. The light revealed the disturbing sight of the killer that had eluded them for so long.

Between puffs for breath, the first thing the cleric noticed was the enraged culprit bound in her restraining magic barrier. Assured that the barrier was strong enough, she severed the magical fetters and reinforced its structure to hold without her needing constant concentration to maintain the spell. She looked back towards her friend and pursed her lips. "Are you okay?"

"That crazy fucker cut me. Can you believe that? Fucking asshole."

Hastur let out a puff of relief. He may have been only slightly injured, but she was glad to see Thaelin still had his foul mouth.

Varris inspected the scene. She brought her torch closer down the alley and winced at the sight of the latest victim whose body looked mauled by a deranged animal.

"You failed to stop him from killing again." Yelled Varris, fuming in anger. A pair of manacles were retrieved from her belt. You will pay for that Thaelin!

"Whatever. I caught your bad guy alright? How about you fuck off. Im tired, sore, and could use a beer."

The trapped dwarf pounded against the magical prison. His blood smeared mouth frothing with an insane glee. His words were muffled a bit but he yell profusely over the theft of his beloved dagger and his thirst for their deaths.

"Is that the murder weapon? Give it here." Ordered the paladin, attempting to snatch the knife away.

"Fuck off! I'm keeping it. Consider it my payment for catching your killer. Alive mind you." Said Thaelin raising the blade out of arm's length from the paladin

Despite Varris' towering stature and clear height advantage, she managed to struggle to grab at the blade "Give me the dagger!

"No! Its mine! I stole it fair and square."

With her breath back into her lungs Hastur she sighed at the childish display before her "No. I am taking the thing."

Varris looked down at the pint sized cleric just like she did in the training grounds "Its evidence! Hand it over."

"If you have a problem with that, why don't you take it up with the Mother Superior?" Hastur said matter-of-factly.

Varris glared at the two. "Fine. Guards, get this beast out of here and into a dungeon cell."

The cleric gave Thaelin a tight hug. "Thank you Thaelin! I knew you could do it!"

"No problem, Hast. Just remember. I'm never doing a job for free. See what that nut-job did to me" he said pointing at his cut.

Hastur looked down at the dagger and tucked the blade into her belt. The thing was disgusting looking and stained with blood. But at least it was never going to harm another soul again.

'_Thaelin has his trophies. And so do I.'_


	32. Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Divine Intervention

"This cant be!" proclaimed The King as he paced around his craggy island in the Dark Realm. His fingers thumbed through a multi paged binder containing a document script. "I am the Big-Bad-Evil-Guy of this story. How is it that I only have a few scenes in this poorly written story? I mean come on? Its so unfair! I should have those writers flayed alive for putting me in such dribble."

His vile servant sat on the arm of his throne. Her leg swinging back and forth as she watched The King pace around his floating island. She watched his outrage with a soft amused smile.

"To be fair, My Lord." Cooed Sarama "I believe the creators are trying to attempt a bit of a Lovecraftian aura around you. It is supposed to add to the mystery and how the other characters are powerless to your influence. Even Great Cthuhlu is only mentioned slightly before his reveal."

The King stopped mid rant. "This is true. And what does that tentacled, hentai demon have that I don't have?"

"A cult following. Both fictitious and fan based."

The King tossed the manuscript aside and took a his place on the throne. "Sarama, do you hear something?" he said tugging on his ears

"No, my Lord."

The King's ears rang in a shrill ringing. He shot from his seat and grabbed ahold of a nearby buttress. Again and again he bashed his head into the stone till a black slime rolled down the column. The wounds on his forehead sealed shut in an instant, but the pain still continued. The King hunched over grabbing at his head to wail in his misery.

"I CANT STAND THIS PAIN!" he roared clenching his crowned head

"My Lord. I'm sorry to see you in such discomfort. Perhaps scrying can take your mind off the ache.

"Fine! Whatever." The King said taking his seat on the throne and dug into his ear with a pinky finger.

Sarama raised the mirror portal with a hand and the scenes of a civil arrest were underway.

"Hmm…it appears my dagger has a new host. This should be interesting."

The King crossed his arms and pouted his lips. "Oh poo! I liked that dwarf. He had such great recipes for devouring children and drinking blood milkshakes."

Sarama watched the scene unfold as two humans fought for the dagger. "It appears that the new Host is... a cleric."

"A cleric you say? Which deity? Is it me? No, wait. I don't have any followers. Is it Slaannesh? Tiamat? Ooh! Is it Asmodeus? That little scamp is such a cutie."

"I'm afraid her deity is Oghma, My Lord."

This news didn't sit well with The King. He pouted deeper in his throne "How is it that a pompous bookworm can get a follower, but I cant?"

The ache in his ears increased to the point he collapsed to the floor "SARAMA! Find the source of this annoying sound at once!"

"Yes, my lord."

Through the mirror the world focused on a small room. Red tears rolled down the cheeks of a pale beauty. Her skin as fair as alabaster and curly hair as red as a stag.

The King frowned with a look of genuine empathy. An expression Sarama had seen on only a handful of instances.

"We must help her." The King said rolling back the sleeve of his robe and bit at his wrist. More black slime pooled under his feet as the king bit cleanly through his limb and tossed his severed hand through the portal. He smiled as his black bloody stumped hand sizzled and bones slithered forth to regenerate a new hand.

The woman took a final sip from a glass chalice. Its thick red syrupy trailed down the side where she tilted the goblet. She picked up her quill once again. With a finger she wiped a bloody tear from her eye and continued to write.

'_I cant go on anymore. The pain of loss has hurt me to the point I cannot go on. I thought that in my immortality I many a face would fade by. But with the death of a fellow undead. I cannot fathom this ache. By the time you read this, I will have walked into the day, and my body will become the dust in the hourglass of time. Farewell all. Raine, I shall soon see you once again._

_-Lylla'_

The woman lowered her quill next to a note. She leaned back in her chair and looked to the clock on the wall. 4:30 in the morning. By her guess the dawn was just starting to break over the eastern horizon. In another hour or so she will walk out into the light and great her death.

"Why do you weep, sweet child?" came a voice from the shadows

The woman jumped in fright. Not much scared her in her centuries, but this voice. Could it have been death? The spirit of death mortals clain visits them just before their demise?

"Who are you?"

"Me? why, I'm your father."

The woman's jaws opened and a pair of long fangs were brandished. "Impossible! I buried him long ago. Who are you? Show yourself!"

From the dimly lit corner, a shade in the shape of a two long-legged figure emerged. Its body was translucent black boiling smoke. It had no face, no eyes, and no mouth. But the shade looked straight at Lylla.

A thin arm raised from the mass of smoke and went to wipe away one of her bloody tears.

"What has saddened you, my beautiful daughter?"

"I-I cant go on anymore. As a vampire, I should be use to people dying. I...l-lost a close friend earlier this month. The others tell me not to worry about a pathetic ghoul like her, but...but she was the only friend ive ever truly had. And she was murdered in the street! By a monster!"

"I'm so sorry, daughter." Hissed the figure "Tell your father how he can hep."

Lylla's bloodshot and teary eyes locked on the figure as it circled around her. She didnt know what magic was behind this. But she couldnt pass up a chance. Even a slight chance at that.

"Revenge! I want revenge against the monster that killed Raine!"

"Raine? I know not this name."

"She was a Night Child. A ghoul. And my dearest of friends. She was taken. Murdered in the street like some...animal. I want the head of the monster that killed her!"

The vampire could tell the specter was smiling at her in some unseen way. A soft chuckle echoed from the smoke.

"My sweet daughter. I can do this. I will tell you who killed the ghoul. But as for your revenge. That is all up to you."

"Who? Tell me! Tell me who killed her!"

The figure stopped to Lylla's left and before dissipating into nothing, it's final words echoed back into the void from whence it came.

"It was...a ranger."


	33. Chapter 32

Chapter 32: Vendetta

Thaelin stepped into the Weathered Wheel with a high spring in his step. After his and his partners dungeon crawl adventure, the sale of the ancient Elven swords finally closed and he had a nice chunk of coin in his purse. Coin that would be spent on a tasty meal and a belly of strong drink. He slapped a his hand on the bar counter and gave the little bartender a bright smile.

"Fink get me a glass of whiskey. The top shelf stuff tonight."

"Ooh! Living high on the hog tonight, eh?" the halfling laughed while hopping onto a ladder to reach a green bottle of some of his best grade alcohol he had in stock.

Thaelin grinned as the amber liquid poured into his glass. The sharp smell of the alcohol mixed with notes of peat and some barley filled his nose. The halfling slid the glass across to the ranger and scooped up his pay. Thaelin raised the glass to his lips and sipped the elixir. It made the insides of his mouth tingle and warm.

"Ooh! That is the good stuff."

Fink laughed at the ranger.

Among the dozens of the usual tavern attendees, there were some new faces mixed with the bunch. Ones that looked very out of place in an establishment like this. The barkeep couldnt help but notice there being a woman in the back of his tavern that didnt take her eyes off the ranger when he walked in. Fink brushed it off as but an admirer.

"Oi Thaelin, lookin like there's a lass that's keen on ya. Green dress. In the back."

The man combed a hand through his messy hair as he looked into the mirror above the bar to spot the damsel who could be in the need for some distressing. He couldn't see anyone that fit Finks description, but when he turned around he met a fiery headed woman with pale skin and soft hazel eyes standing right behind him Her green and gold dress was tailored to every curve of her figure.

The ranger couldn't help but feel luck on his side tonight. Good drink, a beautiful woman, and his roommate wasnt expected t be home tonight. It was going to be a fun night.

"Hello handsome." smiled the red haired beauty. The woman curled a lock of her hair around a finger as she smiled at the man.

"Hey. Whats a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" Thaelin said. He could have sworn he saw the woman's eyes flashed with a light. But he was too awestruck to care.

"Waiting for the right man, I suppose."

"And who exactly is the _right man_?" Thaelin retorted he placed his glass of whiskey to his lips and took another sip.

"I've always been wanting to be with a ranger. I hear they are some _tough_ and _skilled_ men."

"Well lucky you. Cuz there's no one tougher than me. Or skilled for that matter." while he spoke with the woman he couldn't help but feel a little strange. Like his eyes couldn't look away and a slight tickle stuck in his throat. He coughed into his hand and waved off the sensation.

"Is it true that you rangers really protect us city people from all sorts of monsters?" asked the woman

The man widened his stance and took a heroic pose "Oh yeah. Hordes of ass-ugly freaks have feel to my blade. Whats your name, surely a lady like you cant just be called beautiful?"

The woman smiled at the man's flirt.

"Its Lylla." the woman purred inching closer to the huntsman "I heard that there was a monster spotted in the city not long ago. And some brave monster-hunter sliced off her head."

The ranger took a deep breath and puffed out his chest. "Word travels fast. And that's true. That was me."

"Oh really?"

"Yup. The most ugly ghoul ive ever seen."

"Wow. You must be so strong to be able to cut off its head."

"I didn't slice off the freak's head, actually."

"Oh?"

"I stomped it off. Its blood was really hard to wash off my boots. Way worse than having shit on your heel"

The woman closed her eyes for a second. When she opened her eyes again and gave the man a bigger smile "Well I for one am very grateful, Mr. Ranger." the woman took his glass from his hand and drank the entirety of the whiskey without a single wince or a bat of her eyelashes. "How about I go with you and _show you_ how grateful I am."

Thaelin's flirtatious smirk grew more as he threw an arm around the woman and walked out the door with her. "Darling, You read my mind."

Freki's paws tapped against the floorboards of the Monastery Hall. The little puppy followed the yellow and white robed clerics as they made their way towards the Library

"So thats the book?" Sister Shae asked glancing at the ancient tome tucked under Hastur's arm

"Yep!" Hastur said smiling from under her hood "Mother Illisa wants to test me on what I have learned so far. So tonight its going to be me, Freki, and this book.

Well be sure to keep it down. I will be studying on some operations with applying healing potions mid surgery."

"Fun. Want to get some coffee later? I may need it if it turns to be an all night study."

"Sure."

The library of Hayak Monastery was impressively well crafted. The two front doors were 10 foot tall slabs made from a single oak plank. An the emblem of Oghma was carved at the center of the archway. Hastur always felt at home in libraries.

Oil lamp sconces lit the room with ample lighting and two 20 foot long trestle tabls were placed in the center hall for scholars to read at their leisure. The walls to the Archanium were lined with tomes on every subject from histories, nature studies, medicine, politics, and invention. In the back of the hall were two private chambers where clerics and mages could experiment with their magical studies without endangering others and have a peaceful place to work.

Freki laid on his belly and watched as Hastur made sketch after sketch of a sigil on paper before drawing it with chalk on paper. Once she felt satisfied, she moved on to recreate a bigger one on the floorboards

"Okay. This is just a teleportation spell. Its simple." she said to herself lowering her hood and wiping her brow "I can do this. I can do this right?

Freki perked his head up and gave a confident grunt. Hastur took the gesture as a "Of course you can, my friend."

Just as the arcane text read, Hastur stood in the center of the sigil, careful not to smudge the runes. She focused on a nearby location before she recited the incantation.

"Freki. Stand back."

The puppy did as commanded and backtracked to the wall.

Hastur waved her hands to draw the energy needed. She whispered the words to the spell and could smell the ions in the air charge up. Her fingers tingled. Her hair began to stand on end and the sigil underneath began to glow blue

Arcs of static and lightning flashed around her then in a thunderous clap, blue streaks of light engulfed her. In an instant, the world around her became light and she felt as though she was floating. When the world reemerged under her boots, the soft light faded to blackness. Hastur paused. She grew nervous that she perhaps teleported somewhere else.

She took a step forward and struck her shin against something like a chair.

"Damn it!" she whispered rubbing her leg

The mage pictured the layout of her boarding room and tried to imagine where she was. When she reached waist level to the find a corner to a firm surface. By her guess she was standing on her side of the room. This was a good sign. The spell worked. Now only if she could see.

"Thaelin, are you here?"

She listened closely, but could have sworn she heard someone breathing. Leaning against the edge of the table the wandered into the darkness. The closer she got, the more she heard from the strange noises. A breathy feminine sigh followed by lewd sounds.

Hastur's face contorted in disgust. The mage balled her right hand and focused a spell for a ball of light to emerge in her palm

"Thaelin! If you brought another bimbo here, I swear to Oghma I'm going to-"

When the darkness was driven away, the most horrific scene was revealed y the mage's light. Her roommate's sheets were covered in red stains. The man laid on his back with a naked red haired woman leaning into him latched onto his neck. Her fangs tore into his flesh. And blood dripped from the bite.

A wave of emotions hit the cleric. She stood there paralysed not knowing what to do. Her body stiff. Feet like stones.

_-Shock-_

Hastur had heard legends of vampires and heard all sorts of what they looked like, but didn't know they would look so human.

The woman released her jaws from the man's neck. Her eyes were black with yellow dots where her pupils would be. The creature brushed her curly hair aside and looked looked to Hastur with a bloody smile dripping from her lips. It was the most disturbing smile of accomplishment and superiority the cleric had ever seen. Next to her, Thaelin's eyes were blank and echoed with pain and terror. Hastur could see the words 'help' trying to form on his lips.

_-Anger-_

"Get away from him!" the cleric yelled drawing her rapier. "By Oghma! Die monster!"

The woman laughter faded just as her body did. Her form shifted into a translucent black mist that floated above Thaelin's bed. The cleric tried to swipe at the twisting smoke as it snaked its way through the air and out a nearby window. Hastur wanted to go after it, but the pain filled groans of her friend beckoned her.

_-Fear-_

"Thaelin!" The mage shrieked seeing the man in such a state.

His body felt cold. As if while the creature drank, she had drank away all the warmth and life from him. The half elf had to act quickly. Or else he could bleed out and die before she could get to help.

"Hang on Thaelin. You're going to be okay."

Since the man was obviously too big and heavy to carry, Hastur rolled the man on his blood stained bead sheet. She gave a firm tug and felt the man start to slide. Unbeknownst to her, the ranger's limp body started to fall from his bed and crash onto the floor.

"S-sorry!" she muttered when the man's full weight and head made contact with the floorboards. "Hang on Thaelin. I will teleport us to help."

As if he could understand the man's eyes went big and with harsh gasps, he tried to whisper a message "N...n...no...p-por-"

The mage dragged her friend to the location of her last spell locale. She recited the words and imagined the rows of beds in the infirmary in her mind.

Just as before, the sensation of static tingled around her fingers and thin arcs of lightning surrounded her. A quick clap of thunder and reality shifted to the location she imagined. When she looked down at her passenger, she saw the ranger curling into a fetal position. Writhing in some internal pain as his body convulsed and vomit leaked from his lips.

"Somebody! Help me!"


	34. Chapter 33

Chapter 33: With friends like these

The clocktower struck once in the night and echoed through the sleepy city streets. Night was starting to come in full swing. And for a young cleric this brought night terrors to be all too real.

The soft glow of a mage's light lead her through the dark halls of the Monastery grounds towards the infirmary. The events of the night flashed in her eyes. In every dark corner, she could have sworn she saw the haunting smile of the bloodsucker. Emotions boiled in her chest but she couldnt let them get to the best of her. She had to be strong. For herself. And her dog. Freki's paws hurried along after the cleric's side. Following her every lead and assuring her that no danger loomed in the dark.

As she opened the door to a private ward of the infirmary, she found a single guard standing at attention outside the door. By the blue and white surcoat, she could tell the guard was a Militia member. The short brown haired woman paladin gave the cleric a nod before letting her into the chamber. Dozens of pillar candles filled the chamber with a warm light. The feather bed in the center of the room was draped with a large white bedsheet. Though the patients it usually held were either terminal or very wealthy. Hastur pursed her lips when she imagined the latter.

Freki approached the patient's bedside. He let out a whimper as he struggled to leap up on the bed, but managed after two attempts. He sniffed at the blankets and tried to lick at the ranger's cheek. When Thaelin didn't stir, Freki gave a melancholy before curling up next to his legs. Ever a loyal friend. He would make sure no other harm would come after the ranger.

The cleric took a seat next to the doorway and wanted to let out a cry. But she couldnt. Now wasnt a time to show a weakness. But what could she do? The only one who would even know the next action was laying on the bed.

Behind her, a cold chill broke through the still air. Hastur jumped when she saw the shadows morph and a figure emerged. From the veil of darkness, Mother Illisa strode forward. The matron made no sound as she walked. Yet another sign of the matron's magic skill. The sight of the ability sent a cold shiver through the cleric. It wasn't the vampire she had been imagining, but it was disconcerting all the same. The crone approached the man's bed. Freki's head perked up from Thaelin's lap and let out a small grumble. The matron offered her hand and the puppy went back to laying silently.

The Mother Superior placed her bony hands on the ranger's head and gently turned it aside. The sight of two puncture marks under the bandage wrappings made the old woman purse her lips.

"I'm told that there appears to be no signs of blood born illness." The matron said. Her words cold like the grave. "This is good news."

That relief made Hastur exhale loudly as she collapsed into her chair.

"Did you see the attacker, Sister Prynn?"

Her hands raised to the drake scale she wore around her neck. Rubbing its bumpy texture sent a sense of peace through her. And the memory that she was able to defeat a foul beast before.

"Yes ma'am. I will never forget her face."

"And you're certain it was a vampire?"

_-Rage-_

'Of course! That _creature_, was in my home. It attacked my friend.' The more she thought abut the vampire the more her anger boiled "Its going to pay. I want to drive a stake in that _thing's_ heart myself!"

A great beast growled within the cleric. Its massive flanks banged against the cage bars made of control and restraint. It wanted to be free. Hastur wanted it to be free. She felt its claws swat between the gaps in the bars. It was strong. It was intimidating. It was something she wanted to be. Hastur blinked out of a trance and then she realized her hand wasnt playing with the scale around her neck. Instead her hand was gripping the hilt of her new trophy dagger. Her thumb rubbed over the smooth surface of the skull shaped pommel. It was a hypnotic yet calming feeling.

The matron contorted her lips into a wrinkled pout. "You don't have to worry anymore. I will notify the Militia of this matter and they will be done with it by sunrise."

_-Shock-_

'_The Militia?_' the thought of the horde of paladins loose in the city made Hastur's stomach drop. Even though their cause was just. And she did want to see those monsters killed, the Militia would still rack up unnecessary collateral damage

"Mother Superior, you cant!"

Surprised by her ward's outburst and constant protest at mention of the militia, Mother Illisa decided to press "Oh? And why not?"

"They will burn down the city if they knew it would draw out their foes and now is not the time."

"Their actions may be extreme at times, my dear. but there are vampires in this city. Their rot will destroy the betterment of Hayak. The Militia will do as they are ordered."

"Mother Illisa-"

"-I will have no more discussion of this. Now if you excuse me, I must send a message to the Duke to inform him of the action."

Before the Matron walked through the shadows once again, she hesitated. "Its admirable that you care for your friend. But this has to happen. And for it to happen I will have to write a letter to the Duke. My arthritis does make my hand ache so these days. It may take a little longer to draft the orders."

Hasturs face went bright with hope. Without a word, or a look back. Hastur made her way to the hallway where she could freely conduct her spell. The mage didn't have time to redraw the sigil underneath her. She closed her eyes, imagined the design under her, and recited the words. Upon finishing the last syllable, that current of electricity rushed through her once again. She experienced weightlessness for a second before feeling the familiar wood floors under her. She opened her eyes to that same dark room.

Out of fear, she gripped her rapier as she created another ball of magical light. She made the orb bright enough as to not hide a single thing in any shadow. Nothing was going to surprise her this time. She was ready.

As she walked about the room, she felt disturbed. In the past she accompanied Thaelin to a couple crime scenes to investigate a bounty suspect. There was a distant feeling then. But now that it was in her home, it felt all too real.

'_Pop Quiz Hastur,_ _What would Thaelin do_?_...Look for clues._'

The cleric stood at the doorway. She glanced over and observed the small trail of clothing that lead to Thaelin's bed where she found the two. The mage knelt down to inspect the clothing left behind. Among the items was Thaelin's leather doublet and his boots. But what didn't belong was a dress and matching slippers.

'_First clue'_

Hastur looked over the dress. It was a yellow and green trimmed gown. Short sleeves that went to the elbow. The hem had small traces of a fiber clinging to it. By the feel of it, she could have sworn it was sawdust.

''_He brought her home, but from where_? _There's no sawmills open at this hour. Where else would there be traces of sawdust found…_'

Hastur thought hard about this puzzle.

"_The tavern!_"

Hastur rolled up the dress into her satchel and made her way out the boarding house. The bar was fairly close. She couldn't teleport there. Suddenly arriving like that could scare away accomplices and ruin further evidence to track the monster. If she ran, she could make it there before Last Call.

Drunken singing bled into the dark streets around The Weathered Wheel Tavern. A human serving wench carried a large wooden trencher of cow horn tankards to a table of men gambling their weekly wages at a game of Liar's Dice. The halfling barkeep stood atop his step stool and leaned against the bar counter telling jokes with a pair of blacksmiths still covered in soot.

Hastur burst into the tavern gasping for breath. Fresh air burned as it struggled to reach her lungs. She shoot her head too and fro trying to find the Halfling owner.

"Oi! Hast, yu'll work up yourself quite the thirst if ya keep up that running!" the barkeep said reaching behind him to pour the cleric a fresh stout. "Iffin yer lookin' for Thaelin? Ya missed him a good while ago."

"Fink! Thaelin? He was here?

"Yepper! Boy, that man had to be the luckiest bastard alive to land a bonnie lass right before he left."

Hastur leaned in close to the counter "Tell me you have seen her before. Its important!"

"Sorry lass. Cant say I have. She came in here and started flirtin' with the mook. Strangest thing I've seen. Especially since she hadn't tried talkin to me first." the little man chuckled

"Fink!" snapped the mage "Thaelin was attacked. I need to know who she was. Was there anyone else that came in here with her? A friend maybe?"

The barkeep leaned back and gave the cleric an understanding nod. "I see. I didn't really see a friend, but she did talk with this bloke near the back. He's over there, in the red tunic."

Hastur's head shot up towards the west corner of the tavern. Hidden in the back was a man playing cards with a group of laborers. Seeing the man laughing made her heart twinge with anger. The mage placed a hand in the hilt of her sword. The way the man interacted with the gamblers, there was certainly something off about him. Something...unnatural. Before she could take a step to confront the suspect, there was a little arm that pulled her back,

"Oi! Hast, let me handle this." said Fink

The barkeep went back to his joke telling friends, spoke with them briefly and gestured towards the door to them. The men agreed to whatever he said and left without a word.

The Halfling approached two muscular and very intimidating men. He didnt really say anything to the thugs. He just cocked his head to the side as if to gesture to the doorway. The thugs took their leave and the barkeep made his way towards the suspect in the back. She watched as the Halfling nearly disappeared into the crowd. He re-immerged next to the gamblers and proceeded to joke with the laborers. He chat briefly with the man in red and the two walked back to the bar.

"If its okay with you, mate. Id like to chat outside, tis a bit too loud fer me." The Halfling said leading the suspect outside. Hastur kept her distance. When the man in red walked past she tried to keep a plain face and not instantly lash out. Something was set in motion. And she didnt want to trigger it before it was the proper time. The second she took a step outside, the two men Fink previously talked to emerged from nowhere and grabbed ahold of the man in red. Each taking an arm and forcing him to his knees.

"Alright. Start talking. Where's yer friend?" fink said swatting a back handed slap against the bound man's cheek.

The man in red winced at the strike. "Whats the meaning of this? I have no idea what you're talking about. What friend?"

"The lass! The red haired one in the green dress. I saw you chat with her before she left and hurt my mate. Now talk."

The man squirmed to break free but, couldn't shake Fink's assistants. The prisoner lowered his head and when he raised it again, the man's jaws were open wide, wider than a normal man's jaw could. They bore a pair of long fangs, and his face went pale. Corpse-like with bright yellow pupils. Hastur took a step back in fright. It was just like the woman she saw earlier. Strangely, the barkeep stood his ground. The Halfling slapped the vampire across his snarling face like he was swatting at a mosquito.

"Oh ho! So yer a vampire? Well listen here, ya prancy night-dweller. I've had goblins nibbling on me toes back when yer sucking the blood from rats. Ya dont scare me."

"Release me you pathetic mortal!" Growled the man in red

Fink let out an annoyed sigh as he swatted the vampire a second time. The halfling man walked off to a nearby horse trough and fetched a pail of rainwater.

"Oi, Hast. Bless this, will ya?" he said with a sly grin. Hastur caught on and returned the grin

"With pleasure."

The mage raised the pail of water in the air and recited a prayer. With every word, their vampire prisoner became extremely nervous. Squirming more and more.

"_Oghma. Lord of Knowledge. Bless this water with your wisdom. And may all that partake of it receive your holy grace_."

Fink gestured to his men and they firmly placed the vampire flat on his back. One man kept his knee on the prisoners chest and pinned his legs. the other held down his arms. Fink stood over the vampire's face and tilted the bucket . The first few splashes poured nest to his ear and made the man purely terrified.

"No! Please dont! Don-do AHHHHH!"

Hastur stood in genuine shock and intrigue when the blessed water affected the vampire's flesh. With a few splashes the water looked absolutely harmless at first. But then man wailed in pain as white blisters formed and steam could be seen rising. It looked as though being splashed with an acid. The vampire begged and pleaded, but Fink continued his torture. Giving the prisoner an extra splash.

"AAAAhhhh! Ah-Alright! Alright. I knew her. Shes in the same nest as me. Ill tell you whatever you want. Just please stop!"

Hastur took a step closer to the vampire. "Where is the nest!? where is the girl!?" she demanded

The vampire spit and stuttered. Trying to catch his breath after the burning bath. Fink rolled his eyes and gave the prisoner one more splash with the holy water.

"T-TIN STREET! The apartment on Tin Street. Red building. Black doors. Our coffins are in the basement. I swear that's all I know. Just no more! Have mercy!"

"Good!" The cleric said turning to the halfling. "See what else he knows. I'll be back by morning."

Fink smiled eagerly at the vampire gasping for breath. "Ya hear that lads? We can have a few more hours of fun! Bring this prissy lump to the cellar. We're going to make him sing."


	35. Chapter 34

Chapter 34: Dig two graves...

The training grounds of Hayak's Monastery glowed from a hundred torches held in the gauntleted hands of the paladins.

Matching suits of plate armor were standing at attention. The light of the torches reflected off their pieces of armor light tiny candle wicks. Their stone unchanging faces carried the expressions of confidence and eagerness for battle.

Between the rows of formations, their commander came through their ranks giving a final inspection. He wasnt clad in armor. But he was going to send off his troops all the same.

"Warriors!" He called out with a stern voice

The mass of steel clanked their breastplates in unison.

"Tonight the streets will run red with the blood of the vile creatures of night. Leave not a single abomination unbroken. Kill them all!"

To his right, Sergeant Varris Harth turned to address her underlings. She had trained every one of her subordinates. She knew the mettle of every man, woman, dwarf, and halfling in the ranks. Not a single soul before her showed any sign of being able to falter.

The sergeant stepped before the horde.

"Brothers and Sisters! You have been given your orders. We go to serve the people of Hayak with our blades. Are you ready?"

"**Aye Sergeant!" **Screamed the host of living weapons

"Remember your training. Not one of us shall fall this night! " The mob let loose a primal roar that echoed through the city "What is your Oath?"

"**My oath is to serve!"**

"What is your fate?"

"**My fate is Victory!"**

"What is your reward?"

"**Honor is my reward!"**

"And what is your Justice?"

"**Death to all that oppose The Light!"**

"Ready arms!" The sergeant yelled unsheathing her falchion. "To war!"

Once the phalanx marched out the gates, they took to their shields when in the center of the street, arcs of blue lightning crackled before a single bolt struck the ground in a bright flash and a hooded cleric emerged

"Wait! Wait! I know! I know where the nest is!" yelled the cleric

The paladins kept their solid stance unsure what to make of the recent arrival

"Cadet? Get out of our way!" roared the sergeant

"Stop!" Shouted Hastur "Varris. I know where the vampire nest is. Its on Tin Street. Red building with black doors. We need to hurry."

"I dont know what you're trying, Cadet. How would you know where the nest is? You're interfering with our hunt."

"Damn it Varris! Listen to me! I am Mother Illisa's student. Ergo, I out rank you. Now listen, follow me and I can lead you right to vampire's the nest."

The horde of iron clad warriors eagerly waited to hear their commander's response. The great helmed sergeant let out a grunt before finally agreeing. Despite how ludicrous the idea.

Candles flickered as glasses of deep red drink clinked and jovial laughter filled the halls. Gentry gathered to celebrate. The scene was filled with decadence, opulence, and general hedonism. Men and women wearing the finest tailored clothing. Necks weighed down in gold and jewels. And walls covered in massive paintings depicting fat cherubs and dryads playing in paradise like fields. Other paintings shown satyrs chasing young virgins and grand naval galleons sailing to the furthest reaves of the known world.

It was all enough to make a commoner green with envy, and for a fellow noble to beg admittance into their gathering. At the top of a grand staircase a woman with a fiery head of curly red hair stood to address her peers. She clanked the side of a glass goblet with her claws.

"Brothers! Sisters! I bring good news."

"What is it Lylla, have you finally gotten over your silly grief for that flesh eater friend of yours?" yelled a heckler

The red haired woman retained a calm exposure as the mass of formal wear chuckled below.

"Not long ago, one of our court was murdered in the streets like a vermin.-"

The congregation chattered amongst themselves.

"-But, I am glad to say, that mortal blood has been spilled this night! I killed that wretch! And now, our sister of the night can finally rest easily. Her killer laid dying in my arms. So tonight! We celebrate!"

The crowd gave a joyous cheer as they drank heavily from the blood filled chalices. The music began again and a waiter made his rounds carrying a platter of blood goblets on a shining platter for the guests to enjoy.

A hard rasp at the door beckoned him

When the butler opened the door, his hands fell to the side and the platter of goblets shattered to the floor, calling for all the party goers to gaze over. The waiter's body went limp and collapsed to the side. Many a party goer gasped when they saw the body of the waiter smolder and catch flame. And a yellow hooded figure emerged from the doorway, retrieving her blade from the vampire's corpse.

"Kill her!" ordered one of the party goers

Before a single undead soul could advanced, the doors were thrown open and an army of plate armored warriors dashed inside ready to bring their holy might to the abominations.

Varris lead the charge. Her falchion split the skulls of three of the vampires before any of the undead could make any defensive strike at her. Few of the male party goes produced dirks and small sabers, but their attacks were nothing compared to the heavy armed paladins that ransacked their manor. The sergeant whirled her falchion over head brought its hefty blade into the nape of a vampire's neck. The steel embedded itself into the collar bone of a woman party goer. She wrenched the blade free and gave the crippled vampire a second strike freeing itself from the undead scabbard.

Goblets of blood were crushed under the heavy armored feet of the paladins. Monster and man battled with equal fury. The strategy used by the paladins was to use their heavily armored bodies to grapple with a few vampires so others could advance and drive blessed iron spikes into the area where a heart could be.

One paladin was cut off by his force and several of the vampires tackled the man. They managed to tackle him to the ground and in a tussle, they managed to tear off his helmet. With flesh exposed the beasts opened his throat with their claws. The paladin convulsed on the floor in a gargled wail.

Amid the chaos around her, Hastur locked her eyes onto the only vampire she cared about slaying. The red head. She gripped the hilt of her rapier tight and strode forward. The cleric shoved paladin and undead alike out of her way. When one managed to single her out, the cleric produced a magic barrier to her side, and shoved the creature back into the frey for the paladins to destroy.

Step after step, Hastur watched as the vampire she marked for death, back away and bolster an incoming attack. With razor sharp talons, the vampire woman lunged forward. Hastur side stepped and slashed at the red haired blur. When the two turned to face one another once again, Hastur smirked when she saw that her rapier struck its mark and a large laceration cut across the woman's face.

The half elf spun on the balls of her feet to see the wound hissed as it sealed shut. Once again there was that arrogant smile. The cage inside her rattled at its sight.

"I remember you." Hummed the vampire. "You were there when I killed the ranger."

It wasn't much of a taunt but it was enough to spark the cleric's ire. She focused all her magics into her free hand and readied a milignant spell. She charged headfirst into the frey. With two fingers, the woman pinched the end of the cleric's rapier. As much as Hastur tugged, it couldnt be freed. The curly haired blood drinker raised her clawed hand high and brought it down, slashing part of Hastur's cloak to ribbons.

"You will have to try harder than that if you want to even try to hurt me." smirked Lylla

Hastur unbuckled her cloak. She tightened her grip around her sword till her knuckles turned white.

"I've never tasted elven blood before. It should make for an exquisite meal."

Hastur broke her silence.

"The only thing you will taste, is my sword!"

Lylla scoffed at the remark and moved at the speed of an arrow. Using one of her claws as her weapon, the vampire and the cleric engaged in a dance more than a duel. When the needle-like blade slashed down, it was flicked away. When she lunged the blade, her foe sidestepped out of its path. Ground on both sides was taken and lost then regained again.

Lylla's smile never faded, she knew she could outmatch the pathetic mortal in an instantm but like any predator, she enjoyed playing with her food. She allowed a few scratches to be made, but only to give the little church-girl a false hope.

The vampire caught the blade once again between her clawed fingers. With the blade kept taught, the vampire employed a little trick. She stepped forward to where only several inches in height and a few inches in length separated the two from being face to face. Lylla cocked her head to the side and in an instant her face shifted when she snarled towards the cleric. Her skin went pale, jaw nearly unhinged like a snake, and two fangs barred for her blood. The cleric's eyes widened in fear at the sight.

The vampire savored her fear to the point of laughter, but was caught off guard when the little cleric threw a clenched fist into the face of the undead. Though a battle waged around them, Hastur's spirit was lifted when she felt of cartilage breaking under her knuckles. Her fore staggered backwards, stunned by what just happened. A mere mortal landed a strong blow against her.

The vampire growled as her body shifted into a fine black mist. The billowing cloud shot towards Hastur who slashed out at it, but struck only air. The mist snaked its way past her and materialized behind her. With a vice-like grip the cleric's swordarm was wrenched back. Her sword fell with a clatte. Hastur flailed her free hand towards her belt but a second hand stopped her from reaching her trophy dagger.

The cage in her soul crashed. Hastur looked back into that yellow eyed smile. In the blackess of those tiny black dots surrounded by the yellow shine. She saw it. Her reflection. Her k_eh. _It was scared. It was panicking.

Her heart beat like a dinner bell for the vampire.

With her arm twisted to its near breaking point, the vampire's taloned finger traced the exposed bit of flesh on the cleric's neck. Hastur heard the vampire giggle as she drew a deep breath. Out of desperation, Hastur muttered the words to an incantation and opened her grappled palm.

"You must be so curious. It must _burn_ inside you to want to know why I killed him."

Hastur continued to struggle free.

"I didnt do it for boredom. Or because I was hungry. I killed him out of revenge. He killed my dearest friend. "

Hastur tried to think. She needed a plan to break free. '_What would Thaelin do?_'

"Hes _not_ dead!" she declared

"What?!"

"And you're the one who is going to burn!"

The cleric sthrew back her head into the Vampire's face and from her bound hand, an clap of thunder sounded and a barrier of flames separated her and her attacker. The flames roared like the fires of hell. Intense heat graced her exposed flesh and radiated great warmth against her back. But the flames didnt touch her it was . Amidst the blast, she felt the the grip release her arms. She closed her hand to stop the jet of flames and went to retrieve her rapier, what she saw was a nightmare. Just like the lumberjacks in the forest. A human form was charred black. It was still standing there. Its fanged mouth was open. Stuck with the expression of a pain filled wail.

The display of magical power made all those in the parlor stop mid battle and watch in equal awe. A woman wailed in terror. "Kill that with!"

Varris snapped to. "Shield wall!

The paladins pushed and shoved all in their path to take up formation. At the base of the stairs they made a semicircle. Each man and woman linked their heater shields together into an unmovable iron fortress with Varris in the center.

"Remember your training. If one falls. We all fall!" came her call under her great helm.

"**Aye Sergeant!"**


	36. Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Intrigue

The remaining vampire gentry rushed towards the stairwell. Each eager to rip the cleric apart. But all that stood in their way was a massive armored wall. The paladin's feet were firmly planted on the ground. Their shields clanked as the horde of undead charged at them.

Varris grit her teeth as the snarling undead scratched at her shield. "Hold the line! Hold! Hold! Now push!

All at once the wall threw their weight forward pushing the attacking vampires away. The Militia drew their swords and thrusted them into the stunned enemy. The warriors drew back their swords, locked their shields again, and repeated.

Hastur took a slight motion forward and winced when she saw the blackened statue of incinerated remains start to move. Crumbs of char sprinkled to the ground. Bones cracked. And the blackness of the form shifted to a red as muscle and flesh regrew. Before the vampire could have a chance to continue their fight, Hastur had to act. She dashed forward and swept her foot under the blackened form. Once on the ground, the mage slammed her foot down. Placing her boot on the vampire's neck. Pinning it under a light weight

Finally gaining the upper hand, Hastur went in for the kill. From her belt she poured the contents of a waterskin on to the pinned monster. Just like acid, the holy water burned the pale skinned creating patches of grey and rotting flesh.

Lylla wailed as she struggled to get free. This was inhuman. A normal paladin or priest would have just killed her in an instant. But not this. She looked up at the sadistic cleric above her. The healer's eyes were blank. Cold. Emotionless. Hate filled.

The vampire collapsed, overcome by the pain.

Hastur drew her trophy dagger from her belt and plunged the blade into the creature's chest. Her wrath boiled over to where she pulled the knife out only to thrust the blade back in. Again, and again, and again, and again. Relief and peace came over the mage. But only in tiny ounces. As if every strike with the blade made her feel better somehow. That beast she felt in her core seemed to be subsided with her act of vengeance.

The half elf collected herself. She wiped the blood from her trophy dagger onto the skewered corpse of the vampire before sheathing it. Wisps of white smoke enveloped the corpse.

A heavy gauntleted hand clapped the cleric on the shoulder. Out of fear she pirouetted around, drawing her dagger out of fear. The paladin raised his hands to show no threat.

"Easy there, Sister. The battle is over. Come. You should rest." he offered the little half elf a hand down the staircase. Hastur sheathed her blade

"I'm…so sorry. I dont know what took over me just then."

"Its fine, Sister. Happens to all the Cadets after their first battle. Rest now. I'll find a flask for you."

"T-thank you."

Once down she descended the grand staircase to join the paladins, she saw them inspect the fallen. Driving wooden stakes into the hearts of all the formal dressed corpses.

Varris pulled the disgusting bodies of the night dwellers off the body of their only fallen comrade. The Sergeant knelt down to closed the dead warrior's eyes. She placed a solemn hand on the fallen's chestplate.

"Dear Brother. You have fought well. May you rest well in the peace and serenity that you fought for." The sergeant lifted the paladin's body and removed the cuirass. She placed the tip of her falchion over the man's chest and plunged the longsword down.

Hastur's face was contorted with disgust. "W-why did you do that? Hes dead!"

Varris wiped the blood free and sheathed her falchion. She removed her helm and shook her elctric blue hair aside. "There's no telling if the infection in him. Better to be safe than have him turn and kill. Bring in the priest!"

From the doorway, the final combatant had joined the force. He looked more like a knight than a priest. He wore a chainmail hood with a blue mantle with a white emblem of a right gauntlet fist. The priest unfurled a censor in the shape of a mace head. Soft fragrant smoke wafted through the air as it swung the sacred smoke. The priest recited prayers of protection and fortune in an upcoming conflict. Hastur was filled with wonder when she noticed the smoke from the censor fork out into streams and began to lead towards a pair of double doors under the staircase.

"The rats are hiding!" yelled the sergeant to her force "Don't let one escape! Gregor! Stay with the Cadet. Lets hunt!"

"Ma'am!" saluted a short suit of armor that looked to belong to that of a halfling.

While the paladins marched off to slay anymore stragglers, Hastur looked around at the slain vampires. All of them were wearing finery that a noble would have worn. Fine velvet, wool, and silk clothing on every one of them. She wanted to look around.

Hastur took two steps towards the kicked in doorway before a solid hand pulled her back.

"Sister! You cant go that way. Stay here."

"I want to look around. There could be clues."

"We have orders, Sister. Wait here for the sergeant to give the all clear."

The half elf rolled her eyes at the stubborn loyalty of a Militiaman. She darted her eyes up at the top of the stairwell and remembered she didnt have her cloak on. Now that she thought about it, she felt almost naked and ashamed without it draped over her and covering her tapered ears.

"I'm going to go get my cloak."

"Sister..."

The cleric could tell the Halfling was giving her a stern look from under that little helmet

"Its just at the top of the staircase. I will be right back. I promise."

Without a response from the little suit of armor, the cleric departed back up the steps. A small grin found her when she noticed no sounds of heavy footsteps following her. The mage found her cloak right where she left it. Four long slaw slashes were carved through the yellow wool cloak.

With her cloak clasped back around her neck and her hood back atop her head, she looked back and saw she was still out of sight from her little bodyguard. The mage tiptoed away down a hallway desperate for any other clues she could find.

Below her she could hear the cries of battle. Swords clattering, vampires dying, and heavy feet pressing forward.

Hastur cautiously inched her way through the hall like a mouse. She prayed the floor wouldn't creak under her next step. Every door she passed, she gave the knob a slight turn to test if it was open. So far all were locked except for one. The mage gathered her last ounce of strength and steeled herself. The rapier gave a soft whisper as it was pulled from its scabbard.

"_Please be empty, please be empty, please be…" _

The little cleric entered the room shaking in terror. She looked everywhere. Every shadow, every spot an abomination might hide, but it really was truly empty. Hastur let out a great sigh of relief as she returned her blade.

She held out her hand and produced an orb of light with the last of her magic she could muster. It was a darkly decorated room. A fireplace was ice cold, and heavy drapes blocked out any possible chance of light. The walls were adorned with books and a massive wood desk sat in its center. The desk top was inlaid with beautifully carved birch wood in the shape of a flowering blossom.

Hastur approached the desk and began to investigate.

"_Okay…what am I looking for here_?"

She shuffled through loose papers trying to find anything of possible value. There was no telling what she would find. Feeling her power waning from exhaustion, Hastur lit a candle on the desk top to guide her search.

She shifted papers through scanning the pages. From what she found, it looked like common invoices. Brackets of incoming textiles from the east. Wine from the south. And pig iron from a forge in The Craggs. All looked to be normal. Till she found it. A letter. Written in a long script and about readied for a courier.

'_Livestock has been obtained and will be sent to your destination in Eastmarch in approximately two tenday. Given that the weather has been fair this year, I dont suspect much of a delay. I don't trust the deliverers very well as they are notorious gluttons who think themselves wise that a lord wont notice skimming from the . See to it that all humans are accounted for and non have been fed upon. If one goes missing, or has so much as a scratch, have the deliverers flogged with silver.'_

Hastur let out a sigh of relief. She found it. Evidence to an even bigger conspiracy. One involving the nobility of Hayak. This was huge. This needed to be dealt with. While she read the last part over again, she pursed her lips. There was no signature. Nothing. Whoever wrote this, had a level of authority. Someone who could command. A captain? Or a noble.

Her slender hands patted around the desk for something. Anything she could have missed. Her fingertips grazed the smooth portion of a dark wood handled object. Towards its base was a metal coin shaped portion with a carving of some unrecognizable shape.

"A seal?"

"Of course" she thought.

Rather than take the seal with her, she rushed around the drawers searching for a stick of sealing wax to stamp the letter.

The cleric pulled the candle close and held the small wax nub aloft, careful to keep the wax turning in her fingers and to not burn them.

Once the wax was shining and looked like it could drip apart any second, she smeared a glob onto the paper.

"Sister!" came a yell from the doorway.

The cleric jumped out of her skin and dropped the seal on the ground. She dove down to retrieve it.

"Sister Prynn! What are ya doing in here lass? Yelled the little suit of armor

Hastur snatched the seal and returned upright with a ditzy grin on her fac, trying not to look suspicious. She hid the seal in her palm and brought her clenched fist. Hastur brought the seal down onto the wax and tried to stand in the most awkward and uncomfortable stance, yet still trying to not gain any level of suspicion.

"Well...um...you see...I was um...I thought I saw a vampire come in here. Yeah.

The little suit of armor shifted before it answered. "And why didn't ya call for me?"

"Well...you were busy guarding the parlor. I...didn't want to disturb you in case a vampire tried to get past you. Turns out there's no vampire in here after all." She gave the little paladin a chuckle and a 'im totally not hiding anything smile'.

The armor shifted a second time. "Very well. Come along, Sister, before the sergeant finds out and will have my guts for garters."

The half elf breathed slowly. She prayed the dried wax from the seal and folded the letter and stuck it in her bodice. Come day light. She wouldn't rest. Not until she had more answers and that she knew Thaelin was recovering well.


	37. Chapter 36

Chapter 36: The Royal Hunt

At the highest part of the Cloud District, there lies the unofficial third city district of Hayak. The Gold District. A small gated area where the most wealthy and the city nobility reside. And the residence of the Duke's palace, White Rock.

White Rock Keep is a three leveled castle with four large spire towers in each cardinal direction. A grand stone staircase leads all to its massive iron reinforced gates.

The Foyer to the Keep's Parlor on the second floor was silent. Long slender candles hung from polished bronze sconces that shone like gold. A large twelve-armed chandelier hung above casting a large thin shadow below. Oak wainscoting carved with olive leaves decorated the walls. A long narrow rug ran from one doorway to the next.

Hastur's fingers traced over the luscious gold trim of her gown. This was the first time she wore a dress not made from cheaply spun linen or wool. It was a true beauty. As green as her eyes, and almost tailored to her perfectly. She felt like royalty. The vibrant dark green sheen of the dress was like a roving summer field. The bottom of her dress had small triangular gores of white sateen fabrics. Her attention was still drawn to the delicate craftsmanship done in the embroidery of small golden weaving knots along the cuffs and trim along her neck. A modest gold-colored silk rope wrapped around her waist served as a cinch belt. As a piece of personal flare, she attached her Elven dagger. The finely crafted blade was cleverly disguised as a ceremonial piece accompanying her ensemble.

Despite being on a bounty job, getting a chance to wear a magnificent dress such as this, was a boon. On the right side of her gown there was an emblem of red sable surrounded by a wreath of gold chains.

"I hate this!" hissed Thaelin trying to tug at the cuffs of his formal doublet. "This damn thing is so fucking itchy." His doublet was a rather snug vestment compared to his leather one. A few shades darker than Hastur's dress, but equally as extravagant. The velveteen double breasted garment was a slim fitting cut with gold domed buttons. A similar emblem was embroidered all along the right side of his doublet.

"Quit your bitching. Besides, a job is a job." She said looking into her reflection in a large silver mirror hanging on the wall. She tied back her hair into a neat ponytail with a slim bit of silk cord.

"I feel like a moron in these damn breeches." He said tugging at the tight fitting trousers.

"At least now you look the part." Chuckled Hastur, still admiring the look of her in the dress. "It will be a shame to have to return this dress. It's beautiful." She turned her head to the side and frowned when she caught a glimpse of her ears in the large mirror on the wall. She felt strange without her hood, but at least around all of these party guests, no one would particularly take note of her. No one ever acknowledges an elf these days. Only time someone does is to sneer and ridicule them.

"I'll be glad to get rid of this damn itchy thing for my leather jerkin." He said trying to stretch his arms for a small inch of freedom. "My contact told me our target will be here tonight. Sooner we bag him, the better."

"Just remember who did the snooping for the lead in the first place."

"Yeah, yeah. Lets hope you can remember our cover, Hast. We're supposed to be dignitaries from Altrun. ."

"I know. We're _Lord _and_ Lady_ Nir-Vallen, heirs to a wealthy merchant family in the south east next to The Craggs." Recited Hastur, finishing her ensemble with her Elven copper and emerald necklace. "Wouldn't it have been easier to just disguise ourselves as servants and nab him before he walks in?"

"…True." The man said scratching at his cleanly shaven beard "But we wouldn't have as much fun doing it like this."

"And I wouldn't be able to wear this awesome dress." Hastur tugged at her dagger hanging from her cord belt. Moving it to be within reach, but not in the way.

"I still cant believe I got bitten by a vampire." he said raising his collar to hide those fading scars on his neck.

"If you werent always bust thinking with your _thing _you wouldn't have." retorted Hastur. "Correct me if im wrong, but I believe you only agreed to my idea is because you wanted to play a rich guy was just so you can say you've hunted on the Duke's private hunting grounds."

Thaelin couldn't help but smile at the idea. Just him alone. Hidden among the trees with a spear in one hand, and a goblet of fancy wine in the other. It would be so much fun.

The two inspected each-others disguises and gave each other a slight grin. "Showtime!" smirked Thaelin, presenting his arm to the young mage. The two linked arms and faced the doorway to the way to the parlor. Their black leather shoes clicked along the marble floors.

Hastur's stomach was alive with a nauseous feeling. Her heart raced and she prayed that the second she walks through that doorway, the guests won't begin a chorus of disapproving whispers and sneering looks. The doors clicked open and an attendant, not yet seeing his twilight years, smiled at the two and gestured for them to proceed. The mage and the ranger took four steps forward into a grand parlor room. Finely made paintings of and elegantly carved furniture decorated the room.

"Presenting, The Lord and Lady of Altrun…" the old man said gesturing to the bounty hunters "Master Thaelin and Mistress Hastur Nir-Vallen!" Their herald announced

The duo stood dazzled by the grand cacophony of fellow party guests applauding their arrival. Hastur tried to read the crowd as best as she could. Men and women wearing similarly elegant clothing. Women adorned with shining jewels and cleanly groomed men with neatly trimmed facial hair stood applauding the newest arrivals.

The Parlor was a rather spacious room. A grand fireplace was positioned in the middle of the room. The walls hung large landscape paintings depicting rather impressive natural scenes of the Hold in each of the four seasons: An iced over river in the Winter, a lush green field of flowers for Spring a golden sea wheat being harvested for Autumn, and a grand dense forest with a single winding path through the center for a depiction of Summer. To a guess, Hastur believed the forest was that of Kessier Forest she had visited not too long ago.

"Lady Nir-Vallen!" a woman approached with a glass wine goblet in hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you," she said with a slight bow. "If I may, shall I direct you towards the most-juiciest gossip amongst our fellow aristocracy?" she said with a chuckle.

Hastur looked to a clueless Thaelin that responded with a shrug. "Why hello…madam…" she said trying to stay in character. She was clueless with formal greetings amongst the nobility, so she tried to use how model her jargon around how she converses with the clergy at the Monastery.

"My dear, you can drop the formalities here." The woman said presenting her hand to the bounty hunters "Juliet Thiell, at your service."

"Charmed." Thaelin said gently taking the woman's hand and gave her a slight bow. "Well darling I should leave you to your gossip circle." Smirked

The half elf flashed her companion an annoyed look "You are having too much fun with this, you know that?" she sighed before walking off.

"Have fun darling!" Thaelin said before snagging a goblet from a passing by server. The wine was heavy smelling and seasoned with enough spices that would cost a dozen bounty jobs.

The mage followed her guide to a pod of three finely dressed women of gentry. Their gowns full and decorated with embroidered gilded flowers; their hair twisted into gorgeous and intricate knots and decorations; she approached the ladies who blinked with surprise at the latest guest.

"Ladies, might I introduce you to our newest associate, Lady…"

"Hastur Nir-Vallen." The half elf said with a curtsy, bowing modestly before the women of stature.

"You're an elf?" one of the women asked without a note of tact.

Hastur took in a deep dreath. As she nervously brushed at her hair to better show off her tapered ears.

"Indeed…madam."

The first woman let out a chuckle and hid her face behind a wooden fan.

"Lady Janice Mulkey of Lindenwood." Spoke the second woman with a pair of large red gemstone earrings. She gave the half-elf a nod and the earings shook with the slightest movement. Out of the three nobles, her smile looked the most sincere.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Nir-Vallen." Greeted the final woman in a pink and yellow dress. A brilliant array of pearls strung around her neck. "Izabelle Mohr, lady of Greenswick Hall"

Hastur gave the woman a modest nod. Trying to be sure to show the woman proper respect.

"I apologise for Lady Willstead's boldness. You know how wine affects the tongue." Lady Mohr said with a smile that couldn't be determined as false or sincere. Perhaps somewhere in the in between.

"How do you say hello in your people's language?" asked Lady Mulkey

Hastur cleared her throat before answering. Her hands were near trembling in anxiety

"There are several ways to show greetings, but the common and most polite saying is '_Adon noresh, lani revanthis'._"

All four woman giggled.

"I will never even attempt to repeat such a hobble of words." Lady Thiel said leading the pod in a chrus of chuckles at the half elf's expense.

Hastur's ears twitched at the remark and the action made some of the women snickered even more.

"And what is the translation? I presume it means something like 'tree's bless you' or 'your flowers grow'

The cleric let out a short sigh and tried to keep on her face of polite ignorance. She didnt know how to answer the highly inaccurate translations. "It actually means 'peaceful day, beautiful friend'."

Lady Mulkey took a light sip of her chalice "You're people have quite the way with words. If only the poets knew."

Lady Willstead stood petrified. Her mouth agape at the sight of Hastur's finely made dagger. "I must say, that's…quite the...knife, you have there."

Hastur's eyes shot down to her dagger hanging on her hip. She gave a prideful and anxious smile as she held onto the hilt. Regret crept forward as she realized that the weapon was indeed highly out of place in the setting.

"Thank you. Its a family heirloom."

"Do all elves carry such ghastly weapons?" Lady Mohr put bluntly.

"Yes, actually. Its a sign of our station amongst the castes. Its actually a tradition many humans of the North have copied."

The ladies instantly fell out of interest upon the mention of the elven traditions and turned to the more important discussion of royal gossip.

"Fascinating, I'm sure... "

"Lady Mohr, before I retrieved the Lady Nir-Vallen, you were telling us about your journey to Hayak. Do tell, how do you find this _quaint_ city?"

"Ah yes. Well, my husband and I were traveling through when we made this amazing stag. Why Lucius halted our carriage and proceeded to take off after the beast. Bow in hand."

Hastur gave a sincere smile as she feigned interest. "He must be quite the huntsman, your husband?" inside, she wanted to scream how bored she was. It felt like these women

"Oh yes. He can't seem to take himself away from his bow." I swear with all the time he has made in the forests you would think he was an elf." laughed Lady Mohr "and to be truthful, Hayak is such a detestable place. I dont know why the Duke cant shut down the Forge District once and for all. All the noise from those hairy dwarves its a nuisance."

The mage's ears twitched slightly at the racial remark, but she tried to ignore it. She looked around the room for her partner. He was off standing with a group of gentlemen recounting their most memorable Scenes of the Hunt. In which their arrows and spears pierced the heart of many ferocious beasts. Thaelin could be seen leading the group to an uproar of laughter about some of his most memorable misadventures that put, undoubtedly, their own to shame.

"And so then!" Thaelin paused to take a breath between chuckles "I mangled myself onto the back of that savage beast and the damn thing just starts running off with me. I held on for dear life while using my dagger to stab the thing, but it just kept running. It must have taken me almost a mile before it collapsed. When it was over I found my party members unconscious. They wouldn't have believed me until I brought them the beasts pelt." Laughed the ranger reciting his favorite story.

"Master Thaelin! A man gasped between chuckles, patting the young story teller on the shoulder "You are a true master of the hunt!"

"I'm not one to boast." The ranger said cracking a smirk "but I have quite the impressive collection of trophies at my estate."

"We absolutely must have his lordship accompany us on the next hunt!" Roared another

"Indeed, our associate here is indeed a surveyor of the wilds. And as it appears, he has tasted the flesh of approximately every _beast_ in the woods." Another said. The enclave erupted into laughter once more. Save for the ranger, Thaelin detected an odd note in the manner the other man had just spoken.

"Now I'm not a connoisseur, but a roasted boar shank surely has its benefits" he said trying to wave off the remark and return to the topic of the hunt.

"Tell me, Lord Nir-Vallen. How did you manage to ensnare such a thing as your dear wife? I'm sure we all would love to know how one can capture such a _wild_ spirit."

"Its a long story to be truthful. One that would require more wine as so I can tell it in all its authenticity."

Again the crowd of men burst into laughter.

Back across the parlor, Hastur found herself in the most boring conversation she had ever found herself in a rather boring conversation about how being rich was such a burden and how the poor were rather ungrateful for all they're efforts. In the back of her mind, Hastur was growing tiresome. Her imagination of what the rich and powerful would discuss proved to be rather trivial. No talk of vast wealths or talk of inner-kingdom delegations, there was just talk of gossip among other party goers.

"Excuse me ladies, I must go get some fresh air." She said grabbing ahold of her dress and walking towards the nearest balcony doors.

The hot summer air did little to calm her nerves.

Hastur let out a explicit gripe against the noblewomen she had the displeasure of speaking with in her native tongue. Once she had vented enough, she leaned against the balcony railing and looked out at the scene before her. From this balcony on Keep she could see a remarkable sight: streams of white smoke bellowed from the Forge District and wafted across the Cloud District. It was a remarkable view. But her bottled up emotions had to be let loose. Leaning against the railing, she cocked her head back and let forth a volley of insults directed at the women inside. She made sure to curse in her ancestral tongue to confuse any eavesdroppers that may be near. But there was one and they fully understood the insults being driven.

"Lovely Day. Isn't it, _laranlas_?" came a voice from further down the ledge the half-elf was surprised to hear the slightest use of the Elven language. But what truly surprised her was that the words were spoken by a human man. A rather short man with short arms, and legs, but a rather usual shaped head. Among the common man, his condition was called dwarfism, but a more vulgar word for it was 'midget'. The little man was looking out upon the scene of the city-scape smoking a long clay pipe and blowing bolts of smoke into the morning sky.

"Indeed, it is I'm sorry for my language, my lord. I didn't know anyone was out here." She said biting her tongue at the unintended remark at the little-man before her.

The man tapped out the ashes of his pipe on the baluster

"Nonsense. A women such as you should express herself in any way. And to be honest, those harpies inside are indeed pretentious." He said giving a charming smirk. The little lord blew out the rest of the debris from the bowl of his pipe and tucked it into a pocket in his jerkin.

"It was-"

"Un-lady like?" jested the half-man "Oh please, even I have been known to speak my mind, especially when I rather shouldn't."

Hastur couldn't help but feel a sense of ease around the little lord. Talking to the half-man was like talking to an old friend. "I'm Hastur by the way. Hastur Nir-Vallen. And you are…_bhin_?"

"Lord Jonnathen Erik Roger Stevens Du'Fenn." The little lord said with a dramatic bow. "At your service."

"A regal name indeed." Laughed the mage finally there seemed to be a good person among these jackals.

"But you may call me Jon, if you wish."

The two continued to converse until an attendant knocked on the window and poked his impish head through the doorway "My Lord, it is time to be begin."

"Ah. We mustn't keep the others waiting. I will be there momentarily. I must first seek the privy." The half-man said tucking his pipe into a pocket under his waistcoat. "Lady Hastur, your company is quite the breath of fresh air to this outing. Would you do me the honor of sitting next to me at the dinner?"

"It would be an honor." Hastur said with a smile as she walked next to the lord. The two parted ways and the half elf went to meet up with her fellow guests outside towards the courtyard. From here a train of carriages would transport the nobles to the hunting grounds. Inside their coach, The two began to snicker. Their idiotic plan of crashing a royal celebration was working at the moment. But the day had just began their had to continue their

"Having fun?" he said sipping from a glass wine goblet

"I believe I actually made a friend here."

"Good, if we can play nice with these stuck-up pricks then we can get the jump on that one douche bag."

The ride to the fields was a rather enjoyable one. The cushioned velvet seats was comfortable and the carriage sat rather smoothly on the bumpy road. The stone buildings soon transitioned to a heavy forest. About ten minutes into the woods, the carriages came to a halt. A pair of attendants came to escort the two to an open field where white cloth covered tables were arranged into a U-shape. A small troop of minstrels were strumming their lutes and patting their drums preforming festive ambiance for the royals.

Before the two took their seats on the end of the left-most tables, they were beckoned by a voice at the master's table. "Ah! there you are. Lady Nir-Vallen. As promised, a seat for you." he said gesturing to a pair a seats to his right side.

Sitting in the center of the master's table was the lord that Hastur met out on the balcony. Thaelin's eyes widened with shock. He tugged at his collar before leading the half elf to the head of the tables. Spots reserved for the upper noble class and guests of honor.

"Your friend?" he whispered

"I spoke with him back on the balcony. His name is Lord Jon Du'Fenn."

"Hast, that's the Duke of Hayak." Thaelin hushed


	38. Chapter 37

Chapter 37: The Hunt

The high table was set with a great bounty. Platters of roasted lamb, beef, and seared fish fillets. Bowls of crisp fruits, and massive pitchers were carried by servants to see that a lord's goblet never went dry.

The Duke clapped his little hands together and commanded the attention of all diners. "Let us begin." He said with a hearty cheer.

Thaelin dug into the bounty like all humans do. He wiped his hands on a towel and began to rip off a few sections from a rack of lamb ribs. Next he plucked a handful of grapes from the platters before him. The food was just as good as he imagined rich peoples foods to taste. Tender meat, strong wine, and sweet deserts.

Hastur took her seat on the right of the Duke. She pursed her lips at no dining skewers set forth and decided it best to display another elven tradition. Just as she always had done when eating, she unsheathed her knife and carved off the bottom slice of bread from a nearby loaf and placed it on top of her plate. Using her knife, she skewered the chunks of meat before her and place them on her bread trencher. Next she sliced off meat from the bones and fat. Never touching the food bare handed.

Many of the lords watched her with absolute wonder. Never have they seen such odd and unusual manners performed before. The Duke merely smiled and proceeded to mimic her.

"It always amazes me seeing elven customs." The Duke said cutting a bread trencher for himself. "Such a clean culture."

Not long the rest of the high table began to copy the half elf and found the practice to be quite efficient in royal dining. The men found that the use of bread trenchers best soaked up the flavored juices of the roasted meats and the woman found the practice amusing as to try and attempt such an alien tradition.

"Lady Nir-Vallen," spoke the duke between bites "Do regale us with a story of your home in the Far North?"

Hastur pursed her lips at the request. In the two years that she had lived in Hayak. Not a single soul had ever asked about her old home.

"Yes, my Lord. What would you wish to know?"

The little Lord's smile went bright. "I've read poem and legend alike and all my life I had dreamed of visiting one of the Great Cities. Pray tell, what does the city of your birth look like?"

Hastur took a sip of her wine glass. "I'm afraid its very difficult to fully pronounce in the common tongue but the name of my home is Albion. It is a city populated by Moon and Wood Elves. So the city contains many styles dedicated to the two cultures. The stone buildings are enclosed with ivy and gardens of all kinds fill the air with warmth. When the eastern wind blows it carries the sweet aroma of dozens of flowers. When you pass the city gates, an untrained eye can only spot a forest."

"Dendrophiles..." snickered a lord next to Thaelin. The lord and his wife both whispered amongst themselves. The ranger reversed his grip on his eating knife and went to stab a piece of sliced fruit near the Lord. He made sure to slam the blade into the table hard enough to startle the man and his wife.

"It sounds beautiful. I would love to visit it."

Hastur let out a short sorrowful sigh. "Sadly, my lord, humans are forbidden from entering the North Wood. Unless mandates from the High Elders or an invitation from City Lords can allow such."

"A shame." The Duke said reaching for his goblet.

When the feast finished, servants approached and handed the Lords bows, quivers of colored arrows and spears alike. The Hunt was about to begin. And Thaelin impatiently waited for his once in a lifetime chance to run these woods for a fine beast.

Thaelin took a spear in hand and went to test its balance. The barbed head was a little heavy for his liking, but it shouldn't hinder his skill.

With the help of a special set of steps, the Duke took his mount on horseback and blew a moot into a heavily engraved horn to signal the start of the hunt. Servants handed each man a bow and an arrow of quivers and a spear to any man who felt up for the dangerous task of skewering their prey. Each set of arrows had special colored fletching as to tell who's arrow it belonged to.

"50 gold goes to the soul that slays our query!" the Duke said hefting a spear in his little hand.

Thaelin leaned his speak against the crook of his neck before turning back to Hastur and giving a sly smirk "Care to give me a kiss for good luck, _sweetheart_?"

Hastur put on a fake smile. This part of their plan she absolutely hated. She couldn't stomach the thought of actually kissing him, so when she approached the ranger, she pinched his cheek sharply

"Good luck, _dearest_." The term of endearment made her sick.

Thaelin unbuttoned his formal doublet by a few buttons and took his spear in hand. The Duke's horse followed as she used his skills to search for any signs of hunting game. There were numerous markings of animals about. Rabbit droppings, broken walnuts belonging to squirrels and scratching of pheasant tracks in the dirt, but nothing just yet of a stag or a bear as was custom to hunt.

A lord with a quiver of red fletched arrows came running up to Thaelin. "I say, have you caughten' sight of the beast yet?"

Thaein stood to his feet and brushed the dirt from his knees. "No." the ranger then took in a deep breath. The wind traveled from the south. It was soft warm.

"Name's Reginald Willstead, Merchant Lord of Insark."

"Thaelin." he put briefly trying to keep his focus and watchful eyes.

The merchant lord followed Thaelin and observed dumbly as Thaelin knelt down again to observe something new. Tracks. They were long cloven hoof prints. Round as well. And big. Very big. Almost as wide as his fist. The tracks dug into the dry ground a bit and lead to back west where they had just come from.

Stern hooves beat behind the two men. Thaelin and Lord Reginald each gave a nod to the Duke up on his mount. "How fairs the hunt, gentleman?"

"No luck yet, my lord. Are you sure you had game spotted in these acres?" laughed Reginald

"And what do you spy, Lord Nir-Vallen?"

Thaelin knelt back down to the tracks. "I've found some tracks, my lord."

"Ah. "he sighed leaning down careful not to fall from his saddle. "And what do they tell you?"

Reginald poked his head over Thaelin's shoulder and scoffed at the sight. 'Deer. A stag of maybe twelve points, should make for a great trophy on the mantle."

"No, these aren't deer prints. They are too round. These...look to be boar.

"Ooh!" the Duke awed with a brilliant and excited gesture. "A boar shall make for a magnificent feast tonight, wouldnt you say, gentleman?"

"-This...this is not a normal boar. Its big. Very big. And if a pig would get that huge, that it must be old. And dangerous."

"Are you afraid?" chuckled the Duke

"I'm afraid of what will happen to someone when they find this thing. Its tusks must be at least a span long. We will need a dozen pikemen to slay this thing."

"Can you track it, Lord Nir-Vallen?"

"Of course."

Thaelin took his spear in hand and walked tip-toed next to the heavy cloved prints. Lord Reginald and the duke followed a good distance behind. Allowing the huntsman to conduct his search for them to take their shot. The ranger brushed low hanging branches aside as he cautiously went forward. His head snapped to the sight of any small twig cracking or any gust of wind shifting the trees. Thaelin threw a closed fist into the air to signal the nobles behind him to halt.

Lord Reginald notched his bow and took three fingers to the string to ready his shot.

Thaelin's knuckles cracked as he tightened his grip on the spear. The wind shifted towards the men. And on the breeze was the pungent odor of mud and dung. Fifteen yards into the brush came a heavy rustling and a low grunt. The ranger took his spear in a javelin's grip and cocked his arm back.

A greedy smile took the Duke seeing the men prepare to stike. Which one would fell the beast. The bow? Or the spear? The anticipation was killing him.

The arrow whistled through the air missing Thaelin's head by a foot's distance and aimed blindly into the brush. The ranger wanted to go hit the noble for almost shooting him but the high shriek of an angered boar and foliage exploding towards him replaced his anger.

"Look out!"

The Duke's horse reared back wildly as the massive pig charged forward. The little lordling dropped his hold of the reigns and lept from his mount. He rolled to safety as the boar spooked the horse and the two beasts bound in opposite directions.

Lord Reginald knelt to the grass. Concern took him as sh spotted the grass stained with blood. "Are you alright, my lord?"

The duke pat himself down and was relived to find himself in good order. Terrified, but alive.

"No, no. I'm quite alright."

"The boar's not. Looks like one of our shots wounded the thing." Thaelin said observing how the blood trailed off in the direction of the massive hog. This news invigorated the Duke. He marched off to collect his horse.

"Ah! Now the hunt has begun! Tally Ho!"

Hastur broke away from the gossips with the upmost haste. Collectively their perfumes were choking her greatly. Her annoyance with the women flared every time the woman spoke any negativity of the city, the races that lived there, or about how much more wealth they could accumulate if their husbands could cut back the pay of their workers and subordinates. It was maddening.

They complained of how the poor could allow themselves to live in squalor and their clothes to be dirty and torn. For two years Hastur had tended to the very men, women, and children that they ridicule. They never allow themselves to live in hazardous work conditions. After taxes and after the expenses for food and safe drink the downtrodden barely have enough to purchase an ale at the end of a work shift let alone new clothing.

It was unbearable. The intolerance was suffocating more than their odor. So much so that she had to excuse herself to take a quiet walk in the woods. Further away from the harpies, the better.

The choir of nature was a wondrous melody. The sound of the trees in the wind. The singing of the birds. Even the smell of the grass was a beautiful myriad of splendor. She finally understood why Thaelin wanted to come here. So far away from the bustle of the city. The Duke's private reserve seemed to be much brighter, cleaner, and softer than any forest north of Hayak.

The Fall season was only a week away and there were already signs of the great changes to the land. Leaves of the trees began to brighten. The grass underfoot was losing its palette. Birds began to become more sparse. And the animals were starting to fatten up. By her guess, this was going to be a lean winter.

An ominous gallop of hooves and a roaring squeal heralded the approach of a fearsome beast. A mud brown coat of course hair and two long curved tusks hurtled towards her. Its dark eyes were blank of any intelligence. Only base instinct lead its assault

"Shit!"

Hastur rolled to her left dodging the beast but only to be pursued more after it slowed its charge and redirected itself towards the half elf.

"Take it easy there, big guy." she said crouching low and placing her hands open to her side. "I'm not going to hurt you. So please don't hurt me."

The massive boar's nostrils scrunched up and saliva drooled down its jowls. It sniffed the air and caught the cent of the cleric. It raised and lowered its head all while grunting and tamping its front right foot. The mage cautiously wide-stepped to the side to try and get a better look at the beast. She was shocked at its sheer size and clear ferocity it could bolster. From hoof to the dark mane on its back, the boar was about a good foot taller than she was. And from snout to tail it was longer than any stallion she had seen. The most troubling were its tusks. Long and curved like a farmers sickle and equally as sharp.

Near its rump she saw the shaft of a red-fletched arrow sticking out. Bright red blood trailed down its hide. If she could get close enough without being skewered by those tusks or trampled. She may have a chance to help the poor thing.

"Easy boy. I want to help you." she said taking a bold step forward. The boar didn't seem to pay much attention to the half elf. It was busy smelling the dirt and grunting heavily. "That's a good fella. I'm a friend. I'm not going to hurt you."

Inching herself forward the mage tried to make herself look as minuscule and harmless as possible without becoming prey for the beast.

When she got within five feet of the creature's head, her hope was dashed. The large pig tamped at the ground and scratched at the dirt. Clear signs of a charge. Hastur cursed under her breath. The second its strong muscles flinched as it propelled itself forward.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

She rolled to the side again to dodge the attack and reached at her belt for her trusty rapier only to remind herself that she was unarmed. Except for her Elven knife.

The quillon dagger was held in a defensive grip. her attacker roared once more as she took a step backwards. She turned on the balls of her feet and tried to make a run for it. If she was lucky she could find one of the Duke's huntsmen somewhere to save her. Hastur failed to take note of a large elm tree behind her and ran face first into the solid base.

"Son of a-"

The boar boar charged on. In the knick of time, Hastur slid down the base to wear she was against the roots Its head came crashing into the tree trunk. Its left tusk cracked against the bark and broke off. The boar roared in pain and confusion while trying to search for its prey. Hastur gasped as she watched the boar overhead careen with the tree and let out its wail. With the element of surprise, she thrust her blade up and into the beast's neck. She twisted her blade in its new sheath then abandoned the blade and crawled to safety.

She watched with pity as the beast wailed in pain. Its fell to its side and it's legs kicked up chunks of grass and debris. It brought a tear to Hastur's eye. She knew her knife struck its corrative artery. In a few minutes it would bleed to death. And she was the cause of the creature's pain.

When the boar stopped flailing in the dirt, she took steps towards it. With an outstretched hand she moved into the boar's line of sight. Its body still rose and fell. And its mouth still produced unintelligible grunts and groans. What really hurt the cleric terribly was when she placed her hand against the boar's belly. She wiped her tears with her sleeve as she felt the faltering heartbeats. Its breath's becoming more sparse.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you."

The boar blinked its dark eye at the cleric. And she could see the faint outline of her _keh_. There was nothing she could do, but give the poor creature a few moments of peace. She hummed the soft tune of one of her people's lullabies. And then she felt the massive boar become still.

"Rest, dear friend."

When the mage pulled away from the boar, she nearly jumped out of her skin when there came a new rustle from a thicket of brush. She clenched her fist and then released when she found it to be Thaelin.

The half elf, so troubled by the ordeal ran towards her friend and buried her face in his arms. The ranger didn't need to hear what happened. He saw it. The boar, the hoof marks in the dirt, the blade in the beast's throat, and his best friend brought to tears.

"Ha! I win!" Laughed the a noble emerging from the treeline. The noble approached the boar with a swagger of victory. "Not so tough now are you, ya big chunk of ham? You were wrong Lord Nir-Vallen it appears that those pikemen wont be needed. Only my arrow was all that was needed to kill this cur. Its pelt with make an amazing pair of boots, don't you think?"

Hastur tore away from the ranger, she approached the noble and slapped him across the face with an open palm.

"How dare you?! You bastard!"

The Duke was the last to emerge atop his horse. And to his dismay, the scene was unlike anything he had ever seen. Viewing the boar in its full, he could see Thaelin's need for worry. And a very angry quest of honor slapping and berrating one of his members of court. Her words like daggers wisping harsh insult in the Elven tongue that even he did not quite understand.

"Lady Nir-Vallen. Please calm yourself. Or I may be in need of one of my guardsmen to escort you back to the keep." Duke Du'Fenn said reaching into his elkskin belt pouch and produced a velvet purse jingling with gold. He clenched his hand around the pouch and looked down at the men.

Thaelin grabbed the half elf by the arm and gave her a forceful tug away. He placed an arm around her and lead her towards the Duke.

"Now then, what is the matter here?"

The lord turned to address the Duke. "That crazy elf hit me! I didnt do anything wrong. She spouted some nonsense about showing respect. Respect for what? That monstrosity I killed? _Pfft_. Elf nonsense I say. Its all love the twigs with their kind."

Thaelin gave a slight wave of his hand for Hastur to stay back and to stay quiet. The ranger approached the boar and pulled the red fletched arrow from the boar's rump.

"You didnt kill anything, Reginald. All you did was shoot it in the ass and piss it off." he said tossing the arrow at the noble's feet.

"My _wife, _on the other hand, is the one who truly killed the boar." this time he removed the blood drenched dagger from its neck. "This is what fell the pig."

"In that case, I present to you the winner's purse, Lady Nir-Vallen." the Duke smiled and said as he gave an underhanded toss to Hastur.

The half elf didnt bother trying to catch the purse. She let it hit the ground and rolled her eyes at the gesture.

"My lord! Are you really going to award a woman? She wasn't even a hunter! This is a farce!"

"My words I spoke earlier were 'a purse goes to any _one_ who fells or query. She fell the boar. And she is the victor. A good hunt Lady Nir-Vallen"


	39. Chapter 38

Chapter 38: Regal

The ranger pulled the purse strings tight and pounced the little pouch in his palm.

"50 gold! We play our cards right we will be able to earn enough gold to pay our rent for the next year."

Thaelin tucked the pouch into his royal doublet

Hastur paid no attention. She stared out the window and watched the world pass by from the window of the carriage returning to White Rock Keep.

"I hate this..."

Thaelin gave his partner a sly grin "As you told me earlier, Quit your bitching. A job is a job."

The half elf glared at the man and he leaned back in his seat regretting his clever remark. "Sorry."

"Thats not what I meant. I hate what I did."

"What? This about the boar?"

"Yes, you idiot! I killed it. I killed it and now I feel...like...like..."

"Like you are going to puke? It will be okay, Hast."

"No its not...I'm a cleric. I dedicated my life to helping the world. And here I am taking the very lives I swore to restore...Can I ask you something Thaelin?"

"You just did." Retorted the ranger with a grin

"Nevermind, you ass."

Thaelin leaned forward and placed a solemn hand on his friend's shoulder. "Im sorry Hast, force of habit. Come on, tell me what you wanted to say."

"Do you know what a _keh_ is?"

"Is it a cake?" he said retracting his hand

"No, stupid." the mage snickered wiping a tear forming in her eye. "A _keh_ is my people's word for someone's soul. We can see our souls when we see our reflections in our own eyes or in an other's eyes. I saw my soul in the boar's eyes."

"And what did you see?"

"It was darkness. It was shaped like me. It...didnt...look like me though, but it was me. It terrified me."

"Hast, this year alone, what have you killed exactly? Giant spiders, a drake, a sociopathic vampire,-

"Those men from the logging camp?" the mage blurted

"I dont want to become corrupted, Thaelin. I dont want Oghma to abandon me."

"Hastur. I understand where you are coming from. Killing is a terrible thing. I know it probably means nothing to you, but the first time I ever killed anything it was a single goblin. The most disgusting thing I've ever seen and when our fight was over, I felt changed."

"You defended yourself though."

"Just like you did back in the North." Thaelin saw how troubled Hastur was and opted to change the subject so she didnt look like such a moping mess "I can only imagine how scared you were. You must have damn near shit yourself, Hast.

"I'm sure even you would have been scared, Thaelin" the half elf said finally smiling again

"Nope."

"Bullshit. You would have been absolutely terrified"

"Theres only three things in this world that scare me."

"Snakes, spiders, and what? Clowns?"

"Nope."

"What then?" Genuine intrigue began to take hold

"Someone I hope you never have to meet.

When the noble party returned to the White Rock, Hastur was showered in praise for her skill in vanquishing the beast of a boar. Many of the men lined up to personally offer her a congratulation, while the women stood in their groupings and whispered gossips. Undoubtable racist remarks towards her.

"Well done, Lady Nir-vallen."

"Good work."

"Lord Nir-Vallen. You are a lucky man to have brave wife like that."

"A gifted bride indeed sir."

Part of her felt pierced every time she was given praise. But for the sake of their mission, she plastered on another fake smile.

Upon their return the parlor where they first made introductions was transformed into a festive hall. A band of troubadours were seated near the end armed with nearly every instrument known. Flutes, harps, mandolins, drums of differing shapes, and even a hurdy gurdy.

The pod of insufferable women approached her once again.

"Lady Nir-Vallen, we had no idea you were a hunter." said Lady Mulkey "My husband should find you as a tutor."

"Must be some elf talent. I'm sure all of your people can flutter about the trees." scoffed Lady Thiell

"Extremely unfair if you ask me." said Lady Mohr "It was my understanding that you Elves loved trees and all the animals within. Very hypocritical in my opinion.

"Dendrophiles."

Hastur returned the remark through gritted teeth. "Well, I never! Listen here you harpies! I-"

Thaelin placed a firm hand on the half elf's shoulder. "Pardon my interruption, ladies. But I would like to steal my wife away for a dance. Shall we, _my dear_?"

Hastur glared at the ranger. She was thankful he would drag her away from the women, but couldn't bear the thought of being in such a public display.

_ 'of course that asshole would ask me.'_

She never knew how to dance. This was going to be a troubling test to make her look the part of a true noble. Hastur gave a nervous smile. "I would love to, dearest. But, I-"

Before she could finish, Thaelin took the half elf by the hand and twirled her into his arms.

"Asshole!" she whispered so only he could hear her.

"Follow my lead." he said taking her by the hand and leading the mage into a waltz. They stood in perfect position amongst other couples. Thaelin lead off shuffling his feet in a pattern of taking four wide steps in a circle. Hastur tried to keep up. It wasn't long before she memorized the pattern.

'_One...Two...Three...Four...Pirouette ...Recover...Repeat...'_

It was a dizzying spectacle to see. The men and women would move in perfect harmony. Their steps, their turns, and the movements of their arms were all The ranger fluttered in perfect tune to the music being played.

A smile slowly crept onto her lips. Once she got the hang of it, she started to enjoy the dance. The music and whirling movements created a sense of ecstasy. She didnt want the song to end but when it did, they stopped their waltz abruptly. The men bowed to their partners and the women then dipped into a curtsey.

The Duke approached with his little hands held behind his back. "My Lady, you move with such grace."

"Thank you, Jonnathen." her cheeks blushed as she forgot to call him by his title. But the little lordling didnt look offended

"Lord Nir-Vallen, with your permission, may I have the next dance, with your wife?"

"Yes, My Lord." the ranger said taking a goblet of wine from a nearby server's tray.

The instruments hummed to life once more but stopped abruptly. The steward stood before the doorway and called the nobility to attention as he announced the newest attendee. Hastur and Thaelin glanced at each other. This could be it. Their target would be the next to enter the party.

"Presenting! Her grace, Duchess Vina Steinnacht of Black Stone Hollow."

All in the parlor went silent and lowered their heads as the noble entered. A sweat took Thaelin and his doublet felt as though it had shrunk another size.

Her footsteps were soft. Like a mouse. Even in formal heeled slippers, she didn't hardly make a sound. The Duchess entered the parlor and the air about the room changed dramatically. It was cold. Hastur was amazed at the sight. The Duchess was remarkably short, yet commanded the room upon entering it.

She wore a black woolen dress with bright gold threads along the collar and bottom hem. Her neck was graced with a thin gold necklace locket. A dirk with a square guard and a grip of stacked bone disks hung from her hip. Every feature of the noble woman showed signs of her being a dwarf, but they didn't take away from her beauty. Tawny skin, short stature compared to the average human, and a menacing face as solid as stone. She had all the facial features of a woman barely out of her teenage years. Her nose was slender and had a slight upturned point. But unlike common dwarven features she was very slender. Not stocky like the other dwarves seen in the Forge District. The most remarkable feature was her pair of bright and ice cold blue eyes. A very rare feature amongst the dwarves. They were ones that could send a shiver through the soul with just a glance.

The half elf's gave a nervous gulp when she saw the dwarf royal approach her. Those eyes made her arms form goosebumps.

He inched his way towards Hastur and attempted to keep his fake smile.

"Hast. We need to leave. Now."

"What?"

"Ah, Lord and Lady Nir-Vallen. I would like to introduce you to my esteemed guest." smiled the Duke.

"Apologies, my lord." Thaelin said wiping the nervous sweat from his brow "But I must delay my meeting, for I must go and find a privy post haste." He put before walking off to slip away in the crowd.

Thaelin ducked in and out of pods of nobles as he made his way to a doorway in search of a privy where he could hide as long as he could.

The Duchess stopped in front of the Duke and Hastur. Her head poised upwards. Hastur gave the noble a deep bow. She must have done something right because the duchess' face didnt look any more displeased.

"My Lady, you grace us with your presence." said the dwarf, pulling himself up from a bow "Im afraid you have missed our hunt this afternoon. But you are just in time for the evening entertainment."

"It was no coincidence. I detest hunting." The noble woman said harshly. "I have business I must speak with you regarding your loans from my bank. I trust you are not throwing away my coin again?"

"Yes, my lady. All shall be settled. But first, why dont we enjoy the evening. Have some wine? Its a fine vintage from Morteu."

Her ice cold eyes flashed up to Hastur. And out of fear, the half elf darted her eyes to the floor tiles.

"Who is this?" The Duchess said without an ounce of couth "There are not many half elves in the Northern regions. And lesser few that I dont know. Look at me, girl."

Hastur didnt want to, but she looked down at the Duchess. Those eyes seemed to pierce right through her. They looked at her for only a few seconds. But in that time, those eyes scanned her over and took their time memorizing every part of her.

"This is the Lady Nir-Vallen." introduced Duke Du'Fenn "An exquisite guest and a gifted huntress. She won my little wager for being the first to slay our prize."

"Does the _Lady_ have a first name?"

"H-Hastur, you grace. Hastur...N...Nir-Vallen."

"You're scared of me, aren't you?" the Duchess said. Her voice preened with arrogance. "You would be stupid if you wouln't be. My Lord I shall take my leave now. I have other matters to attend to now. I will be back later to discuss our trade business. Good day."

The Duke gave a uncertain smile as the Dwarf lady walked off. Once he estimated she was out of ear shot, he tugged at Hastur's hand and she knelt low to hear him better.

"Words of advice, Lady Nir-Vallen. If you ever have the privilege of dealings in business with, Her Grace, Vina Steinnacht, you should do so without question and without failure."

"Why is that?" she said watching party-goers clear a path for the dwarf woman and then disappear entirely after a man walked past for only a second.

"She is the most rich and dangerous woman in all the kingdoms. A terrible combination if you ask me. Her pen and her sword cut with the same sharpness. And I pity any fool who crosses her. Least they end up like her fool of a late husband."

Hastur's face went pale. As she recalled Thaelin's urgency. "What happened to him?"

"The rumors vary, but the common tale among them is that he cheated on her with a scullery maid or some other woman of low station. And the Duchess, that cruel maiden she is, killed him. Officially it was labeled a suicide on his behalf. But how a man can stab himself in the heart, slice his own neck, and lose the knife in the process is beyond my understanding."

After dodging through the halls, the ranger had finally found himself a privy to where he could hide for a reasonable moment.

As he unbuttoned his breeches, and let loose his stream into the privy trough. He rolled his head and let out a relieving sigh. If he played it safe, that tiny psychopath didnt see him. The man failed to hear the faint mouse-like footsteps approach from behind him. His stream stopped abruptly when he felt the gentle kiss of a blade's edge grace his neck.

"What are you doing here?" said the woman's voice whom he dreaded to hear.

"V-Vina... I swear... I-"

The blade hugged his neck tighter. His body convulsed in tremors of fear.

"I'm working. I swear to all the gods I'm on a bounty job. Please-don't-kill-me!"

"Who are you after?"

The ranger struggled to form the words. In her impatience for a response, the blade released its hold against his neck, but moved lower to where he felt the cold steel against his member.

Tears welled in the corner of his eyes. "Please, _your grace_, don't hurt me!"

"I'm not going to hurt you, _Thaelin Fridulf._ Just stay out of my way."

The blade retracted away from his flesh and the man was left there shaking.

The rest of the evening was spent with Thaelin keeping cautious eyes on the Duchess' every movement. He would flinch everytime he watched her raise he hand to bring a goblet to her lips and feared for when he lost sight of her among the crowds.

Hastur and the Duke conversed for a good portion of the evening. Their talks of the state of the world and their travels were long. Inviting nostalgia to present itself when one location was brought up or when interests were parallel. Their latest chat that got Hastur incredibly enthralled was about the greatest import that Hayak was consuming more that linen, iron, or cottons. Coffee.

"Have you ever had coffee, Lady Nir-Vallen?"

"Yes! I must admit that I'm an avid consumer."

"Would you care for a cup, I can have my servants prepare a cup for you. Finest in the land, it is. Fresh off the docks from Sol Lancia."

"It would be an honor, my Lord."

My dear, Lady. What have I told you on the balcony. Call me Jon, please."

the two departed from the party and climbed a staircase to the third level of the keep. The private story belonging to the Duke himself. The two traveled along a narrow passage way between the corner spires to a curved archway.

Hastur was amazed at the library. Walls lined full with books. Heavy velvet curtains with gold trim bordered the wide windows that overlooked the city. The air in the private library she smelled it. A inviting aroma. Hidden next to a grand fireplace set peacefully behind a large dark walnut desk. A silver pot held the warm and nourishing drink she had grown very dear to.

"Oh my!" she whispered taking everything in.

"Do you like it? Most of them are first edition. I have tomes here dating back to the first men coming to the land. There are even some on the histories of the Great Dwarven stone cities and even a few on the lore of the Halflings."

"This...this is amazing. How...?"

When you're a member of the royal family, you have your connections. Now. Shall we enjoy a cup?"

Hastur gratefully accepted the offer. Her hands gently held the little porcelain cup. She took a seat across from the Duke who sat in his armchair behind his desk. He poured in a dash of cream into his and gingerly brought the cup to his lips.

Words couldn't describe the taste of the brew. It was much stronger than the coffee prepared in the city shops.

Hastur smiled brightly from ear to ear.

"Thank you. _Hond ebrath_.

The Duke returned the gesture raising his cup in a toast. "_Al hond ebrath, uoi that shantar en that lalala ol hond ebrath._ I do hope I said that correctly._"_

"A true friend, as the trees and water are true friends." She recited "A phrase meant for great allies among the wood elves."

"I'm pleased to know my lessons have improving. Before I only knew how to say the word 'apple'. Hold still." The duke said locking his eye on Hastur as she sat. hands curled around the porcelain cup. The Lord rummaged through his desk and produced a small brass inkwell and a feather quill. He dipped his quill and began making winding lines.

"Please, be still, my Lady. It will only take a second."

His stubby hand guided the feather across the and thin lines danced across the page in swirls. Hastur sat quite as a statue until the Lordship dropped his quill. Lifted the page and handed it to the half elf.

"Its...beautiful."

In the brief minutes that he scratched at the paper. The lord drew a near perfect image of Hastur. Her hair, eyes bright and life filled, and her ears. Not cartoonishly oversized. It was like looking into a mirror.

"Do you like it? I will have it framed if you like. I wish to name this drawing '_Lovely Lies_'."

"What?"

the door behind them flung open and Thaelin was dragged in by two guards. Hastur's eyes went wide.

"Have a seat, sir." Lord Du'Fenn reached under his desk and produced a crossbow almost as big as he was. The little lord leaned back in his chair and propped his stubbed legs on top of his desk and rest the stock of the crossbow on his leg. Keeping his aim swiveling between Hastur and Thaelin.


	40. Chapter 39

Chapter 39: '...dig two graves'

Hastur gripped the handle of her coffee cup to the point it was going to break. She looked on at the barbed crossbow bolt aiming at her head. The weapon shifted as Thaelin shifted in his seat. The Duke raised an eyebrow eager to anticipate the man's next action. But all Thaelin did was ease back lips sealed shut afraid of saying something that would cause the wielder to let the bolt fly.

"Care for another cup?" the Duke asked Hastur turning the crossbow back at her

"N-No…no, my Lord."

"Please, madam. As I said earlier. Call me Jon. And what shall I call you? Other than an imposter of how rude of me. What are your names?

"Thaeln Fridulf"

"Hastur Prynn."

"What gave us away?" Thaelin said easing his hands up and slowly unbuttoning the buttons of his doublet. If he was going to die. It would be comfortable at least.

"When my dear friend, The Duchess of Steinnacht, met the lady She said she had never seen you before. And if my dear friend is ever suspicious. Then so am I."

"Fuck you, Vina." The ranger grumbled feeling the point of the bolt be aimed at him again.

"Now then. What brings you to _my_ Keep?"

Hastur raised her hands and watched as the Duke took aim at her. Her hand lowered and she reached into her pocket. She unfolded the note with the seal and set it on the desk before the Lord. The royal unfurled it and read it silently.

"This seal belongs to Lord Tobias Witt. Where did you get this note?"

"It was found in a stronghold of vampires. I was with the Militia when they stormed the place."

"Ah! I thought I smelled the air of an acolyte around you, _srendaen_. Except you don't seem the perfect fit for all that armor now, do you?"

"No sir…I mean Jon. I'm a cleric."

"And the plot doth thicken. Why was a cleric with a war party?" he said raising his crossbow to his shoulder. The two bounty hunters felt the room lessen with tension. Perhaps. Perhaps there was a way of leaving alive.

"Um….that would be me. Sir." Thaelin said cautiously raising his hand to speak

The crossbow lowered once again and aimed at the man. "Oh?"

Thaelin tugged at his collar to reveal the faded marks of the vampires bite.

"Ah. Now this! This is significantly more entertaining. Guard! Guard! Fetch me Lord Witt. I have words for him."

The guards nodded and set forth.

A glimmer of hope flickered in hastur's core. The Duke of Hayak had heard their pleas. He has grown interested in their claim. And soon. They will be shown to be in the right. The Vampires will pay for their sins against the natural order of the world. And perhaps they will be awarded for their actions. Forgiveness being chief of all she wanted for continuing with their stupid plan of crashing the royal party.

The door to the library sounded and in walked a tall man somewhere in his forties. Light brown hair slicked backwards a sharp goatee curling forward, and a red and grey cloak rested on his shoulders. A short cane with a green jewel topper tapped against the floorboards.

"I hope i'm not interrupting anything." the Lord said eyeballing Hastur as he approached and stood to the Duke's left.

Hastur looked into the man's eyes. There was a yellow shine to them. They were unnatural. The cleric gave the man a false smile. When the tall lord smiled back, her eyes narrowed onto him. There were the tell tale signs of a vampire's fangs. She looked to thaelin who had seen it as well. This was their target. The vampire lord behind the hive that was massacred recently.

"On the contrary, Lord Witt. Some troubling news has been brought to my attention and I wish to have a discussion. Tell me, my friend. Is this your seal?"

The lord took the letter in hand and sighed upon reading it. "Yes...And how, exactly did you come by this?"

Hastur kept her eye on the crossbow resting on the Duke's knee. And second he would grasp the weapon and shoot a barbed bolt into the creature's heart. The Duke tented his fingers and spread his hands towards the duo. "It appears that these kind-hearted citizens have wished to bring this note to my attention. Quite nice of them, dont you agree?"

Lord Witt tapped his cane against the floor twice and moved towards the bounty hunters. He kept his nose held high and looked down upon them his hand reached out and he placed an ice cold hand on Hastur's shoulder.

"Dont touch me, you undead filth!" she said shugging his hand away from her

The Lord smirked at her statement.

"The lady here tells me she was apart of the vanguard that assailed a vampire nest in the city. _My city_. Care to explain?"

"Yes, my Lord. Details on the attack are hazy as there were no survivors. But from what I can tell, The Militia broke into one of my manors, murdered the occupants, and ransacked the place like thieves."

"He admits it! He admits hes a vampire! You see my Lord!" Hastur blurted only to be met with the crossbow taking aim at her."

"Be seated and be silent, please." the lord said placing a finger in the trigger.

Hastur did as she was ordered. Concerned and very confused at his words and lack of action.

"And what of the letter? Care to elaborate upon this?"

The Lord stopped and leaned forward on his cane. "Indeed. Our shipments to my settlements have been assailed upon be troglodytes of my house that feel that their stomach is more important than the order I have created."

"A pity." Lord Du'fenn pursed his lips and set the crossbow into the crook of his arm. He pulled out a second piece of paper and began to scribble upon it. "I shall send an attachment of my own guard to oversee the next few deliveries. Hopefully this will quell the unrest and ensure your workers will fall in line next time."

"Thank you, My Lord."

Hastur's soul shattered.

"What in the Hells is going on here? Hes a damn vampire! Why are you not driving a stake into his heart?"

"Lady acolyte. Please. We are civilized men. We do not result to barbarism like such."

"He...is...a..._fucking_...vampire"

"Yes. He is. And he is also a very close friend that has helped fill the coffers of this city for the past four generations of my family and has over five thousand men and women under his beckon call that can _and will_ defend the city at the nearest mention of conflict."

"I...I dont believe this."

"This is politics, my lady. We do things for the greater good. The good of the Hayak. The good of the people-"

"The good of _his_ kind." Hastur sighed with disgust

Lord Du'Fenn leaned forward and adjusted himself in his chair and now, my friend. Comes the final piece of my business. Mr Thaelin. Shall you please show your neck?

The ranger did as he was ordered. The vampire lord looked at the marks and for once. A semblance of shame lowered his head. No longer looking down at the humans.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Lord Witt. But there are rules to your broodlings residing in Hayak. One of or tenents to our agreement was that no one. Human, dwarf, or halfling; be harmed or turned without my permission." The Ruler's tone and face went like stone. Solid and unyielding.

The undead noble tapped his fingers on the cane topper before he spoke. "I can assure you, Jonnathan. I had no knowledge of this. Before you reprimand me, you first should ask my thieves and would be assassins here?"

The Duke turned to the Ranger and waited impatiently for a response. The man cleared his throat. "What? I got no idea why it happened. All I was doing was drinking in a tavern, some girl approached me, and right when I thought I was going to get laid, she bites me. And not in the fun kinky way either. "

Hastur buried her face in her hand and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Did you have to recite what happened in that way?"

"Its the truth, aint it?"

Lord Witt paced around the two once more. He noted that when he got close to the half elf, she became tense and watched him closely. Fully expecting him to attack her like a rabid beast.

"The woman who attacked you, sir, what did she look like?"

Thaelin scratched at his cheek where his beard once was. "Pale skin-"

"-Most vampires are." chuckled the Duke. "Apologies. I couldn't help myself the chance at a laugh."

"Lets see. Red hair. She had cute freckles on her nose. And a nice pair of tits. Very big and round."

Hastur swatted the ranger on the back of the head. "of all the times you choose to be a vulgar bastard, you choose now?"

"Does this sound Familiar to you Lord Witt?"

"Not particularly. I'm sorry, My Lord."

Hastur then thought hard about her altercation with the vampire woman.

"Wait...I remember she said something to me. During the attack on the manor. It was about why she tried to kill him. Not out of hunger. It was revenge."

"Revenge?" The three men said in wonder

"Hey, I havn't killed a vampire in like...five. Six years, maybe. Kind of a long time to hold a grudge. Dont you think? Especially for a blood sucker. No offense, my Lord"

"None taken."

"She said you killed her friend Thaelin. Anything ringing a bell to you?"

"Nope. Last couple things ive killed recently was a direwolf last week harassing a farm, a Ghoul before that. And then there was a-

The cane struck the floor bords sharply as the Lord stopped in his tracks. "Did you say a ghoul?"

"Um...yeah? Picked a fight with me in an alley after chomping on a rich dude. I managed to kill it by stomping its head off. Gods that fight was awesome."

The vampire's shame welled greatly on him. "Lylla. That damn bitch. My Lord Im afraid I must admit that was one of my line. She and the ghoul had a bit of a longstanding kinship. When news of her _death_ was made public, Lylla drove herself into madness as it appears."

"Upon the path to revenge, one must always did two graves" The Duke said digging out his pipe and stuffing it with tobacco." Well then. Since the culprit is dead. I must say that everything within the perimeters of the laws are tied up nicely."

The undead Lord rested his cane against the the back of Thaelin's chair and placed a cold hand on the shoulder of the two bounty hunters. Hastur shrugged the hand away from her. She leaned away from the vampire to the point she nearly fell out of her seat. "Dear sir and madame. You have the deepest apologies of mine and my house."

"There is nothing you can do or say that would ever make things better. Undead filth like you and your ilk have no place in this world."

"Oh, dear lady, but I can. Name it and it shall be yours."

"Even I must admit, miss Hastur, an offer from someone of our stature has no limits. It shall be done."

with quick thinking on the repercussions for their misadventure impersonating a noble of Hayak's elite, the ranger lowered his head to conceal his excitement. "Make us nobility."

"What?!" Hastur yelled nearly alerting the guards outside

Lord Jonnathan Du'Fenn cocked his head to the side. He was utterly caught off guard by the outburst. He looked at the ranger's smirk. He wanted to admit he was impressed.

"Done!" the Duke said. Retrieving more parchment from his desk and drafting up papers bestowing them their new titles.

For once Hastur was speechless. The world around her felt numb. She kept asking her self what just happened

"Dont look at me like that..." the man said feeling the full weight of Hastur's glare bead down upon him. "I just saved our asses. Oh, can you make me a knight? Its been my dream since I was a boy to be one."

"As you wish." Laughed the Duke "My, my. You two certainly are the most entertaining couple I have ever met."

"We are not a couple." grumbled Hastur.

The little Lord scratched away at the documents and poured a smudge of wax onto the bottom of the documents to give them their official decree.

"I present to you your papers. Welcome, Sir Thaelin Fridulf and Lady Hastur Nir-Vallen. I must admit the name sounds much better. Dont look so glum, Lady Nir-vallen. This may be a blessing in disguise. If you speak to my steward, he will draft a crest for you."

The page shook in her hands. Her eyes scanned over the words at least a dozen times. But it still looked so foreign to her.

'_Lady Hastur Nir-Vallen_'


	41. Chapter 40

Chapter 40: The Duchess

"Make way for Her Grace!" roared the guard.

All in arose to the greet the Duchess of Blackstone Hallow. The numerous chains of gold, and silver wrapped around the neck of every dwarf noble jingled like windchimes. All in the court did sure to lower their heads in honor and reverence to their ruler.

The only sounds made in the Great Hall were made by the stocky housecarl to the Duchess. Heavy boots and the end of his halberd struck the floors similar to hammers on an anvil. The bodyguard snarled at all he saw. He kept two haggard eyes on all that looked too suspicious to be in her majesty's presence.

In the back of the hall. One brave soul managed to catch a glimpse of the ruler on her way to her throne. The Duchess was a frightening, yet gorgeous sight to behold. Skin like a sandy beach. Hair of a dark brown held into a top bun. And her eyes shined like sapphires. A most rare sight amongst the Dwarven race. Her dress was tar black with white and red embroidered jewels around the bottom hem, and sleeves. Her collar held a square chained medallion of an inlayed jet stone cut in the shape of a three peaked mountain. Sitting perfectly atop her head was a gold circlet. And a square hilted dirk swung on her hip. Everyone knew that dagger was not for show. Numerous atrocities were whispered to have been committed with that blade.

The duchess strode pass. Head held high. Eyes fixed forward. Face as solid and blank as the stone of her palace. Her heels didn't even make a sound as they glided across through the gallery. She took her seat upon a polished black granite throne. Gold and red bronze adorned the armrests in blocky zig-zagging patterns.

The court sang in unison. "Honor to you, and your house, your Grace."

A dwarf man in a blue kaftan that wore a bulky silver chain necklace was the first to stand before the Duchess.

"Your grace." He said giving a deep bow. "I stand before thee to beseech your merciful heart. A fortnight ago, a score of bandits came by me farm. And robbed me and my kin. They took from us our grain for the winter and burned our field. I ask that you help us, My Lady. Don't let me kin starve."

The Duchess leaned back in her chair. She glared at the man with her icy blue eyes.

"Ferris."

At her right, a steward with a beard as white as snow stood. In his hands he kept a lead pencil and a simple book. "Yes ma'am!"

"See to it that these bandits are dealt with at once. As for your kin, sir. Have them toil your fields. If you go hungry, sell that chain on your neck."

"B-but, my Lady, my crops!" the man in the blue kaften unwittingly took a step forward, still trying to plead to the noble woman.

"Silence your tongue!" Growled the housecarl. The guard lowered his halberd to the man's gut. "Take another step and I will run you through!"

Two lesser guards came forth and grabbed the man by the wrists. They dragged him away and out the court.

Next an old human man in his late fifties grabbed a child by the neck and threw him to the feet of the throne. "Your grace! This wretched pile of shite was found stealing from my house. I gave the boy right throttling. I ask that you teach this cur the full might of your justice!"

The housecarl grabbed the child by scruff of their ragged clothes. Shirt torn, trousers appeared to be patched together. And cloth wrapping covered their feet. "On your feet before the Duchess!" he barked

The boy brushed their straw colored hair away. A greatly bruised face with remains of a bloody nose were the most damaging to the eye. He hunched over and hugged his sides.

The duchess arose from her throne. She stepped closer to look upon the child in question. Her slender iron like fingers grabbed at the boys face. With a blank sneer the duchess nodded her head in agreement to some internal discussion.

"Tell me _boy_, what is it that you did to spark the man's ire." Asked the noblewoman

The urchin stayed silent. Cowering in fear at all those surrounding him.

"Speak!" snarled the housecarl, stomping the end of his halberd into the ground

"I-I-I stole f-from him."

"Ya see? He admits to being a thief! By the law, I ask that you hang him by his dainty neck!" the man cocked his foot back and struck the poor child in the back.

Those in the front of the crowd cheered the man. The duchess raised a hand from her throne and all when silent.

"And what did you steal? She continued

"F-food, your grace. I hadn't eaten in three days. I was cold. And so very tired. Im so sorry. It was wrong of me to do it, but please. Dont kill me. I'm sorry!"

The duchess stood off her throne and knelt in front of the urchin. She placed a hand on the child's head and gave a soft sigh.

"Do not worry. You shall not be put to death. Rogal!" she beckoned to her guard dog with the halberd. "See to it that this child is cleaned and fed. Once he's eaten, cut off his hand."

the old man cheered with a horrific grin. As guards emerged to take the child away "Justice! Many thanks your grace! Damn little rat!"

"And Rogal..." she added with the slight markings of a smirk. "See to it that this man is given 30 lashes in the streets."

"What?" gasped the old man "but, your Grace"

"The penalty for striking a child in my presence in this city is as such. 30 lashes across the back."

Vina rolled her eyes as the man was carried off and a new case was brought before her.

A dwarf man wearing the robes of a scholars emerged from the crowd. His beard long with thick streaks of silver. He produced a pair of spectacles from his robes and rested them on the bridge of his nose.

"Your grace." he addressed with an overly flamboyant bow "I am Fulk Fyrebreak of your esteemed Runic Council of Letters that has been elected to come before you and the throne to bestow to you the wisdom and the observational learnings members of our council have gathered to present to you on the status of you most noble of holdings, Dear Lady."

The housecarl's halberd struck the stone floor and sent the wiseman shaking in fright. "Be on with it! You are boring the Duchess!"

"Of course, of course!" The scholar said regaining his composure once more. "The community Hospitals of Blackstone Hollow. Have brought forth the most troublesome of discoveries. Now I am not well versed in their medicinal jargon as it gets lost on me, but the-

"Speak plainly." Vina sighed losing interest

The scholar removed his spectacles. "It appears there is a mysterious ailment plaguing the people of your great city."

The council whirled with hushed whispers

"SILENCE!" roared the guard

"The physicians have examined those of study and have found them to be in rather unusual conditions. Those afflicted suffer from the following." a little scroll was produced and he read off from the list "tremors, paranoia, profuse perspiration, and several other varying ailments. At times a treatment brought on by isolation and regular diet has been found to aid in recovery but during these times, the afflicted become..._quite hostile_. Yearning to be freed and to be let loose into the city."

Vina crossed her arms and let out a sigh. "Ferris."

"Yes, my Lady?"

See to it that all distress of a possible plague are squashed post haste. There is no virus, but a form of disease afflicting them. One that will be dealt with.

"Aye, your grace. I do not dare question you, but pray tell, in you're judgment can you forsee this affliction to not be off any form of pestilance?

The rest of her day was spent in similar fashion. Grievances were given and her iron-fisted judgment would be brought down. Once she was done for the day and her usual tasks of signing decrees, and staying informed on royal gossip was over, she could finally get to work on more personal matters.

She lowered her quill and rubbed the tire from her eyes. "Rogal. Take the night off." she said to her patient guardsman who propped himself up against with his halberd.

"Your Grace. I cannot. I am sworn to protect you till my last breath."

She rolled her eyes at the overly loyal guardhound of a dwarf "Its a quiet night. There is no danger. Go have an ale for me." she said flipping a gold coin towards the man.

"As you wish." he said with a bow and clanked his way to the door.

Vina smirked as the door shut behind the old salt. Once free of her sentry. She could begin her afterhours work. The duchess motioned towards her wardrobe closet and changed out of that drab itchy gown for the comfortable attire of a dirty commoner. A patched shirt, ragged trousers and simple leather shoes replaced her velveteen slippers. Over loose fitting shirt, the duchess buttoned on a leather vest. To the naked eye it looked like a mere common man's garment, but held a series of pockets for a rogue's repertoire. Lastly she stashed away numerous vials of mysterious concoctions into a belt pouch and her dirk belted next to it. Before snuffing out the light on her desk. She paused to admire a small painting on her mantle next to her writing desk.

Three children stood together. She in the center with two older boys on either side of them. Her blue eyes shining with joy. A wooden sword raised triumphantly in the eldest boys hand. The second eldest smiled a toothy grin and the only one who had rich-brown eyes. The sight of the painting gave a warm nostalgia to her heart, but the call for her night's tasks was needed before reminiscing.

Vina cracked open her door to see if her guard had truly left for the night. She slid through the shadows and hid in the vast network of the lesser servants of her keep and from there, into the city.


	42. Chapter 41

Chapter 41: Underbelly

Any two-bit criminal or edgy crimelord could proclaim that Blackstone Hollow was their city. But this would be a grave mistake. Blackstone Hollow had only one master. And that was the Duchess. To the common citizen of her holdfast, Vina was a benevolent ruler. She had a different way of showing her caring side. She protected those in need. Punished those who deserved it. And slayed the ones who sought to usurp her holding of power. First on her worklist was tending to an underground of smugglers.

Aptly named, Blackstone Hollow was a holding built in a rocky valley at the base of a minor mountain in The Craggs. Like true dwarves, her people built their city into the mountain and the valley. Human storefronts lined the streets of the valley, and vast foundries, smithies, and trading depots were carved into the stone. The city and her holdings were like many dwarven settlements. Stoic. Solid. And unmoving.

The cool night air carried with it the brisk north wind of winter. Goose pimples formed across the back of Vina's neck while she walked the streets like one of her commoners. Her gate widened, head held low, arms swinging at her side. She picked up a torn straw hat from a passed-out drunkard sleeping in the gutter and worn it low to cover up her icy eyes. Her disguise was uncanny. Thanks to her body build and her current attire, she looked like any run of the mill young farming lads coming to the city for vice..

Every time she passed a storefront, no one payed her any mind. This, like many of her disguises, is what gave her the upper hand in being a ruler of the people. She walked with them, drank with them, and on the rare occasion laughed with them. And they had no clue of who her true identity was. And she could learn from them all the while.

Close to Copper Street, she patrolled the streets looking for and shady signs of her target when by chance they called for her

"Psst…" came a hiss from an alley

Vina ployed a curious expression as she advanced into the alley.

"Hey boy." Came the voice "You lookin' for something?"

"Ya."

"What do you need, a pick-me-up? Or an escape?

Vina shifted her stance. She hunched over and started to look a bit more nervous to the creep in the alley. "I could take whatever you got."

On the edge of the street light, a pair of hands emerged displaying a mysterious yellow vial. "I got just the thing for you."

Vina licked her lips like she was eyeing a tasty morsel in the strangers hand. Her acting skills were impressive enough to any bard. She offered a hand out for it, but just as she expected the hands drew the vial back and the full figure emerged. It was a human. One in a long black or blue watchcloak that concealed much of his shape.

The human smiled at the addict he saw before him. An easy target. But by the way the boy was dressed, he didnt spot a coin purse on him.

"You got a way to pay for this, boy?"

"Not a penny." the boy timidly said.

"Than fuck off with ya. I dont accept charity. Either steal the money or don't come back."

"But mister. I have something you will want. Something very precious."

"Jewels?"

"Even better. Your life."

The boy tore his hat off and spun it towards the man's face and slashed the man across his belly with her dirk. Viscera painting the ground

The human staggered in place clenching his stomach. Hot red blood leaked out of him and he wailed in terror. He looked at the culprit who just stared at him. Ice cubes glaring right through him. He fell over himself trying to hold his guts within him. Unintelligible babbling was all he could muster. Vina sheathed her blade and approached the man. She planted her foot on his wound. Red staining the leather of her soles.

"Before you die. Tell me where your supplier is."

Like all dying men. There was no final eulogy or last religious prayers. Just the shaking tears and the disgusting smell of the victim pissing himself.

"Hey. Don't die just yet. Your boss. Where can I find him?"

His breathing became shallower with each gasp. His red drenched hands around his stomach went limp and a river flowed out.

"Damn." Vina cursed kicking the dead man. She patted his pockets and retrieved a pouch swollen with silver. By her guess the man had made quite the sales that night. An unknown amount of poison had entered her city. And it angered her greatly.

The rogue opened his cloak and found a hidden pocket within. One that clattered with the sound of glass vials. The dwarf woman uncorked one of the bottles and approached the closest streetlamp. A yellow hued dust. Chalky in appearance and had a similar aroma to that of formaldehyde.

It wasnt a poison in the basic understanding of the word. But it was a harmful substance. One that rots the mind with each dosage. While the user reaches a euphoria of vibrant colors, sounds, and visions. It ruins the body making them slow, yearning for their next fix in the break from reality. And a narcotic like this had no business in her city. Vina dropped the vial and crushed it under her foot. Since her contact was no use in providing intel on the supplier. Perhaps a friend of hers could help.

Violins hummed like swarms of bees within the tavern. Like a shadow. No. like a knife in a crowd, Vina sneaked her way through the bar full of humans and dwarves singing and drinking after a long and hard days work. She pilfered a tankard of ale and downed the drink in nearly one gulp. If she was going to be in the tavern, she had to look the part of a patron here to spend their hard earned silver. The Duchess slammed the mug down and walked off to spot her next target. A contact. Another killer.

The crisp taste of the cranberry juice lingered on the assassin's lips. The killer overlooked the crowd under her. So many people. Such ignorant fools. All their lives focused on menial labors and short goals. If only they knew of the world outside their own. The world of the criminal underworld. The constant power struggles between factions. The lurking shadows. And

"Your grace." the assassin cooed looking away from the workers below. She caught the glimpse of a plain looking dwarf woman. One wearing tattered and sweat stained clothes. A less regal look, but one that certainly had its perks in the art of infiltration.

"Matelsia."

The killers looked to each other and gave each other an unspoken salute. The assassin took a sip of her cup and licked her lips. She had dealings with the Duchess of Blackstone Hollow before and was gracious for being in her 'right' side.

"And what do I owe this pleasure? Someone in need of being _removed_?"

Vina could tell that the woman relished the thought of the kill. She served her well before when she needed someone taken care of while keeping a public face.

"There is always someone in need of killing. But I'm taking care of it this time. There's poison in my city. I want to know how it got here."

"What kind of poison we talking about? Sugar Moss?"

"I believe so. Know any suppliers?"

"Not really. But theres been a lot more activity near the docks. Ships bearing the Sol Lancian banner have been seen there lately."

interesting."

The Duchess slid a coin across to her associate who greedily took it. Her gaze marveled at the coin as it tumbled between her fingers. "Oh. And do be careful, your grace. I've _heard_ that Sugar Moss is very flammable when being produced."

The docks of Blackstone Hollow were a very small space. Barely big enough for three ships to float in the harbor. And several warehouses were erected to store valuable trade goods of iron, textiles, and foodstuffs. Red globed lanterns illuminated the end of the piers. It was a quiet night. One that favored the assassin's approach. Just as her associate had said, the red and yellow star banner of a Sol Lancian trading vessel was anchored on the third most dock with much traffic of laborers guided by the silver moon above to haul in their precious cargo.

Vina unsheathed dirk and retrieved a small vial of a purple liquid and poured the contents down the blade's fuller.

Three men with oil lanterns patrolled the grounds. Their lights hanging from outstretched and tired arms. One man stopped next to a stack of casks. He sat atop one and dug into his overcoat for something.

Like a wharf rat, she dashed softfooted towards the barrels. In one bound the little dwarf hopped atop a barrel. And then another. All without making a sound. She drew her blade close and lept down onto the man. Driving her blade into his collarbone. With lightning speed, she grabbed ahold of the lantern before his grip went limp and it could shatter.

Vina watched the men at work with delight. Her mind alit with ways to infiltrate the warehouse. Disguise herself as a worker. Sneak into a crate and be carried in, or just simply approach the front door and kill whoever gets in her way. So many options. But her mind went to one that would appear the most fun for her.

Across the docks, the remaining guards watched the unbelievable sight. A lone box was moving by itself across the grounds to their warehouse. Both men looked to each other. Mouths hanging open speechless by the oddity.

"Are...are you seeing that?" said the one

"Yeah... What in the Nine Hells?"

"What do we do?"

"Obviously we should find out what that is."

"But what if its a trap?"

"There is a box moving across the harbor towards the warehouse we are supposed to protect. Its obviously a trap."

"True."

The two men shrugged and drew their swords. They approached the strange object that stopped in its tracks. Both men looked at the box for a second and waited to see if it moved again. The first man took the end of his sword and tapped it against the crate. It wasn't very surprising to find a response in the form of a knock in return.

The second man timidly reached down and placed his hands on the edges of the box. He looked to his companion who nodded in an unspoken agreement.

As soon as the second lifted the box over his shoulder, the first thrust his blade at the spot underneath. But only stabbed the stone ground. Utterly perplexed the men looked to each other and yelled when the second man's throat was sliced open from a dirk coming from the inside of the box.

"Mimic! Its a mimic!" yelled the first man.

Vina rolled out of the crate and lunged her blade at the man, but only caught a deflecting blow. The human motioned backwards as their duel commenced. The Duchess picked up one of the oil lanterns near and swung it at the man's waist. The glass cracked and the oil splashed and saturated his clothes. Flames engulfed the man in a shower of light and pain. He screamed and wailed before running to the docks to jump into the water. The spectacle put a smile on her face before she collected the second lantern and approached the warehouse.

The door flew open and a cracked lantern set the place ablaze. The flames warmed her skin and sent a sense of joy through her. So much so that she began to laugh. Even more so when the sailors, and chemists slaving over their laboratory stations screamed when the fires took their hard earned work. Gone. Taken by a vengeful rogue.

In less than an hour the warehouse was fully taken by the flame. Once a fire brigade had come to quell the blaze, they will discover the bodies, the remains of the Sugar Moss production, and the Sol Lancian ship still moored at the dock.


	43. Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Consequences

Vina awoke from her feathered bed when the drapes were pulled back and a blinding light flooded the room.

"Good morning, your grace" Bowed her chambermaid

The little duchess rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She could still smell the smoke in her hair. It was a fragrance of sweet revenge, but a rather unappealing odor to the members of her court. Her serving staff prepared her bath and laid out her gown for the day in court. Another itchy black wool dress decorated with fancy baubles.

She fully expected the day to go just as it had before. A plain façade of governing her holdings by day, and running the streets by night. When the news of the dock fire reached her, she waved it off as a simple accident, but a set of intruders to her court, had a different opinion on the matter.

"WHERE IS THAT BITCH!" came a yell before the doors to the throne room were thrown open and an entourage of several humans entered. Swords drawn.

The housecarl lowered his halberd at the threat! His teeth gnarling like a rabid wolf.

"Leave this place! Now! Or I will cleave you in half, you pigs!"

Vina's interest was peaked by the intruders. She gave the men a sincere and amused grin. She couldnt remember the last time someone had the gall to enter the throne room to challenge her. This would be a special occasion. And she wanted to cherish this moment.

"Gentlemen, how can I help you?"

They were Sol Lancians of course. You could always mark someone being of Sol Lancian birth by their olive tanned skin, dark curly hair, and over zealous use of flashy jewelry. Once the mob entered the throne room, they spread out to better display their superiority in numbers. But numbers meant nothing compared to dwarves tempered by conflict and a rough and tumble lifestyle.

One of the men, wearing a long red wool kaftan and a brown fur hat with a silver gem and a pheasant's feather stepped forward. His saber dragging behind him. The members of court gasped at his boldness defacing her Grace's palace.

"You! You damn dwarven bitch! You did this! You destroyed my shipment, killed my men, and insulted me! You will pay for this!

The housecarl stamped his foot and swung his halberd over his head snarling like a caged bear. "Wretch! How dare you accuse the lady of your shortcomings! Give me the word, Lady Vina! Give your order and I will cut this southerner's head off his weak body!"

An icicle like hand was placed on the guard's shoulder. The housecarl huffed and puffed but took the gesture. He regained his composure and stood at attention. The Duchess approached the man. Her stature so diminished against the Sol Lancian she looked like a child staring at an adult.

"There is no need for these threats, sir. But your anger is not misplaced. Because it was me. I burned your cargo, I killed your men, but I didn't besmirch your honor. Because it never existed in the first place."

The merchant lord brought his saber up over his head and slammed it down. Striking only the stone floor. Like lightning, her dirk was drawn. It swiped away the saber and slashed the man's sword arm. Severing tendons with precision. Next she flourished her blade down to cut through his baggy trousers and cut the hamstrings of his thigh. All nonlethal strikes. Just enough to defend herself and savor the man's agony.

The silver hilted saber fell from the man's hand as he collapsed. His right side unable to move. He fell on his left knee and cursed at the Duchess when he found himself in a position as if he were kneeling to the Duchess.

Vina wiped the few streaks of blood from her steel onto the southerner's cape. She wanted to toy with him more. But given she was in the public eye. She made light of the scene. The Duchess turned back to her throne.

"Guards, remove this rat from my sight. Put him back on a boat to the South and be sure to seize all his property in my city. It will be compensation for interrupting the people of Blackstone Hollow and for wasting my time."

The Sol Lancian mob drew their blades and charged at the young woman. Two men cocked their sword arms back, ready to strike at the vile dwarf lady Vina didnt even flinch. Blood and gore splashed onto the marble. Their bodies twitched in the shock of it all. A severed arm lay still clenching its sword.

Beside the Duchess, a halberd's blade lay drenched in crimson and ready to shed more southern blood.

"Guards! Protect your Duchess! Leave these pathetic humans to me!"

Like the grunt of a bull, the Housecarl stomped before entering the frey. Halberd hurled over head, Rogal brought the down the polearm's fluke into the back of one of the men and dragged him back to the dwarf. His thick leather boot rested atop the wounded man's head. The bodyguard kept his sight locked onto the humans. He watched them gasp and wince as he applied pressure to his foot. Then..._pop. _Red juice leaked out under his foot.

Vina sheathed her dirk and took her seat atop the black and gold throne. She snapped her finger for her cupbearer to bring refreshments as the spectacle unfolded. A fine wine would be best for this display.

The humans yelled amongst themselves in the Sol Lancian dialect. Then they steeled their selves before the onslaught.

The Housecarl twirled his halberd around and slammed the steel capped rondel against the head of one man. With the axe blade he buried it into the stomach of another. The final man dodged the blade, swiped the strike away with his saber, and flourished the blade around into a downward slash to the dwarve's left pauldron. The remaining Sol Lancian was swift with his blade where Rogal was slow and heavy swinging. The human lunged his blade at the dwarf, side stepped, parried an attempt to be hooked with the fluke, and gave the old dwarf a slash to the helm.

Rogal swung his halberd down and caught the Sol Lancian's sword with the beard of the axehead. Emboldened by the well placed strike, Rogal's arms flexed as he pulled with all his might. The young foreigner took his blade in his left hand to brace the deadlock. He felt his strength give way as the ox of a dwarf was gaining the upper hand. His knuckles turned white and the southern steel blade bit into his fingers. He knew he was outmatched in strength, but he was still more clever than the dwarf. The man's arms went limp and he sidestepped away. The young man made a break for the door.

The dwarf warrior took his weapon by the haft and threw it towards the fleeing man. A long iron spike impaled the man's lower back. HE attempted to pull himself along the floor, but was stopped when a heavy foot stomped his back and the weapon being jerked back to its owner's hand.

Rogal turned to his master. He Gave her a bow. "Are you alrigh, my Lady?"

"Oh Im fine. A wondrous display as always, my dear friend."

"A thousand apologies for the mess. I shall clean it at one." Rogal said taking a wide step over a pooling amount of blood

"The servants shall do this. Go to the apothecary."

"I am fine, my Lady. Only scratches. They will heal"

"They shall heal best in the infirmary. Now off with you. Guards! See to it that the Housecarl is tended to. And clean my floors"


End file.
